


Wasn't Expecting That

by yourpricelessadvice



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Coming Out, Drinking, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Kidfic, Light Angst, M/M, POV Harry, Pining, Single Parent Harry, Smut, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-07-25 14:53:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 103,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7537114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourpricelessadvice/pseuds/yourpricelessadvice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since moving out of his mum's house with his baby daughter, it's always been just Harry and his little Luna Flower; dad and daughter against the world. Things are just fine and Harry doesn't think he needs anyone -- and that could have had to do with the fact that he doesn't think there's anyone out there good enough. But, with a leap of faith and some unexpected twists and turns, maybe he might just prove himself wrong. </p><p>Or, the one where Harry is a single dad and gets more than he bargained for after a one night stand of sorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for: smoking, drinking, swearing, slightly offensive language (no homophobia), sexually explicit content. Think that’s it.
> 
> So this fic, affectionately known as the ‘young dad fic’ in my drafts, is finally finished after three days shy of three months! I’ve enjoyed this, the character of Luna has become very close to my heart and everything I see reminds me of her, even though she isn’t even real! I hope you enjoy this if you’ve chosen to read it! Hello, please let me know if you do like it! This has gone through a few edits so I hope there is nothing too glaringly wrong with it. It’s unbeta’d, checked over by me only, so any mistakes are mine.
> 
> Thanks again!
> 
> Amy x
> 
> (Title from the song by Jamie Lawson)

[Tumblr masterpost!](http://mummyamy10.tumblr.com/post/152481302919/mummyamy10-wasnt-expecting-that-by)

 

* * *

 

 

Harry, along with the other boys, is already three sheets to the wind by the time they arrive in town. It’s a good job the bouncers don’t ask them for ID because Harry’s not sure he could coordinate such a manoeuvre in this state.

Once inside, a beer is thrust into his hand before he’s really had time to familiarise himself. He accepts the drink gratefully and doesn’t think about the last time he paid for a drink. The boys know that his money goes to one place and one place only, and they must like having him around because they keep inviting him out, Harry surmises.

They throw some crazy shapes on the dance floor; their torsos rigid while their arms and legs move wildly, beer sloshing dangerously close to the rims of their glasses. The monotonous thud of nameless EDM vibrates through Harry as he messes about with his boys, pulling stupid faces for grotesque selfies and bursting into erratic dance routines, throwing himself around the dance floor like a five year old at a wedding reception.

The pull of alcohol gathers them all back together around a rickety circular table for a round of shots. They bang their fists on the table top 1-2-3 then throw the small beverages back, whooping and shouting as the burn travels down their throats.

Harry is barely aware of anything around him apart from darkness broken up by flashing strobe lights. Hands reach out and grab at him from all angles and arms are thrown around his shoulders as he staggers blindly around the dance floor with his beer and his mates. He doesn’t remember putting down his beer to do a shot, but he’s got a half-empty pint glass in his hand again suddenly and he hopes it’s his because he’s finishing it off.

As a general rule, he doesn’t smoke, but he follows the boys up to the upper level smoking area anyway. He’s past that careful drunk stage where you know you’re drunk so you take the stairs carefully; he just sort of ascends them weightlessly, no recollection of the action once he’s up and out in the muggy, balmy air.

He leans in to Mikey who lights his cigarette for him; the plume of smoke that engulfs them is like a dry ice machine. He slips into the background slightly as they stand around smoking and drinking. His ears are still ringing from the noise of the club, and everyone around him is shouting and being elaborate with their hand gestures as they converse. It’s not just him and his group of friends, it’s everyone around him.

He holds his cigarette between his lips and uses the slight breeze around them to waft his shirt away from his sweaty body; the material tickling his skin as he peels it off his back.

His efforts are futile though. Once they’re back inside and they’ve downed two more rounds of shots, he’s warmer than he’s ever been before. He wonders to himself if he could overheat, if his internal organs could start cooking inside him right here in this club and he’d die. That’d be a massive inconvenience for everybody; they’d have to call the paramedics and most likely the police too, and he’d leave behind a horrible burning flesh smell. Plus, he’d never see his Lunatic again. Urgh no, maybe he should stop drinking now and search for a hosepipe or a bag of ice cubes or something…

He’s lulled out of his reverie by a small, soft hand snaking around his middle and the press of an equally scorching body against his own. A girl with a large pitcher full of something purple smiles back up at him. He loses all sense of the little rhythm he had to begin with once she starts grinding up against him and swaying their bodies in time to the music. Her hands are all over his back and his bum as she slips her knee in between his legs; still smiling the entire time.

She bites one of the straws in her unidentified drink between her drink and looks up at his through her long (fake) eyelashes as she drinks. He can taste some kind of fruity vodka on her tongue as their lips collide and she parts her lips to accept his tongue into her mouth. He pulls away once her hands move around his hips and start to travel over his cock. She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip and almost glowers at him. Then, to his surprise, she gives him the rest of her pitcher of drink and disappears back into the crowd, leaving him half-hard and with a free drink. He’ll take that as a win, no matter how disgusting the drink tastes.

“Waheyyy, Hazza pulled!” Both Jamie and Mikey cheer as he wanders back over to them, still eyeing the drink cautiously. Maybe it’s been spiked? Maybe that’s how he’ll die?

“He’s so sexy, ‘s what it is!” Danny hollers, ruffling Harry’s limp curls. He smiles coyly and decides fuck it, he finishes the purple cocktail.

*

By the time they fall into the next club at getting on for 1am, Harry is more drunk then he has been before. He feels hands on his lower back guiding him in the right direction; through the double doors and into the pounding darkness. His arms shoot out and his face lights up as he recognises ‘Saturday Night’ by Whigfield. They must be in Sparklers; the cheesiest, campest, funnest club in town.

The zigzag strobe light that darts around the room changing from green to blue to yellow to red makes him dizzy and he feels unsteady on his light-as-a-feather legs. The round of drinks come served in twelve inch (Harry guesses) narrow plastic cups with straws that wrap around the outside like a child’s cup. The mixture of sweet and sickly vodka-based liquid inside certainly isn’t for children, though.

The straws are obviously to get you drunker quicker, get you light headed and dizzy and eager to buy more. Harry doesn’t to be any drunker; he should stop now. However, ten minutes later he has a drink in each hand and he's dirty dancing to Just A Little by Liberty X with Danny and Jamie; gyrating his hips wildly between the two of them.

More shots appear from nowhere and he throws two down his neck, completely oblivious to a lot of what’s going on around him as he darts around the dance floor. He must break his seal eventually though and find the loo.

Turns out, the toilets are fucking upstairs, up a narrow steep staircase painted a violent red from floor to ceiling. With a hand pressed firmly to each side of the wall in the absence of a handrail, Harry follows the legs in front of him up the stairs, stumbling into the toilets. He crashes into a stall and battles his way out of his jeans; using his free hand to keep himself from falling over.

It takes him three attempts to reach the flush, and he's still tucking himself away and doing his jeans back up as he stumbles out of the stall. He barges out of the main door with his shoulder, side stepping a group of people passing by at the same time, mumbling an ignored apology.

Finding his mates again after wandering off alone to the toilets proves difficult. He braves his way back into the crowds, intent on heading towards the bar. He doesn’t remember how he got it, but he's got a warm pound coin pressed to the inside of his clammy palm and unless he's very much mistaken, there are flyers saying '2 Shotz £1' on every pillar.

His movement towards the bar becomes a side shuffle, a dip of his hips here and a wiggle of his arms there. He tries a spin but he almost falls there and then, so decides against that. The room turns as he collapses against the bar, forgetful of his order. Thankfully, the bar maid must be used to that because he simply throws down his pound coin with an award winning smile and she immediately slides it towards her with a long nailed finger, replacing it with two shots.

He downs the first one, hissing as the neat liquid slips down his throat. He slams the glass down; it reverberates through his fingers but the music - Who Do You Think You Are by the Spice Girls - drowns out any noise. He takes the second one with him on his journey back to the dance floor. As he goes, a guy with crazy big hair comes at him with his own shot glass and they clink their glasses together, taking a drink at the same time. The guy slaps his shoulder with a hearty cheer and promptly disappears.

In his own drunken little bubble, he shimmies and sways, singing along loudly. As he steadies himself to prevent a stupid accident, he feels someone step in behind him.

He spins around, blinking hard to try and counteract his dizziness, ready to apologise for bumping into this person when he’s met with a blinding smile. It’s literally almost all he can see as the strobe lights blink and turn around the room. He opens his mouth to say something – as futile over the music as it is – when a soft hand comes into contact with his side. The guys’ confidence doesn’t falter; and it's not like being approached in a club is unusual for him - Christ, he really _is_ a tart.

As they mutually reduce the space between their bodies, it’s aftershave and minty shampoo that hits his senses. Curiosity piqued and with this boy’s hand travelling up his side to his shoulder, he finds himself bowing his head so the slightly shorter man that’s before him can say something in his ear.

“Nice moves!” The guy whisper-shouts into Harry’s left ear. His breath is warm and he can smell the alcohol. Harry smiles to himself by way of a thank you even though the guy can’t see him smiling. He freezes slightly as he feels a hand on his bum. Didn’t this guy have a drink in his hand a minute ago? With one hand still curved around the juncture of his neck and shoulder, this doesn’t add up. Harry must be thoughter than he drunk. Or drunker than he thought.

“Can I?” The guys says into his ear, and Harry isn’t really sure the specifics of what he’s asking permission to do, but he finds himself slowly nodding his head, granting permission for this stranger – this _male_ stranger, no less – to touch him.

The guy seems to be laughing softly to himself as he grips Harry tighter and presses his body into his. He nudges Harry in closer to him with his hand and Harry damn near loses it when he feels the solid length of this blokes cock against his thigh. He lowers his head further as the boy preens up to meet him. Their foreheads press together and their noses are mere millimeters from touching. Their breaths mix together and are hot between them. Harry’s heart hammers wildly in his chest as finally both their eyes flutter closed and the man presses his lips into Harry’s. Harry’s lips tingle at the first brush of their mouths together.

The kiss was so soft and so fleeting he almost feels like he imagined it. He reaches up to touch his lips, the tickle still palpable. The boy smiles and wraps his own hand around Harry’s, pulling his fingers away from his lips and drawing one finger into his mouth. Harry feels the blood drain from his face as a smooth, warm tongue swirls around his middle finger, damp from the warmth of the inside of this guy’s mouth.

"Can we…?" The guy asks, gripping Harry's shoulder to pull himself back up to whisper in his ear. Five red hot little oval finger tips burn into Harry's shoulder where the guy’s hand rests. His eyes float over the guy's shoulder to the crowd. He can't see any of the lads. He can't see _anything_ really, but he takes that as a sign and trying not to think about what he's about to do too hard, he nods.

He is led back towards the red staircase of doom, the man one step ahead of him guiding him up the steps deftly. They pass two people coming down the stairs in the opposite direction, and they drop hands for a minute. Harry, eyes fixed on the step ahead of him so he doesn't kill himself, feels overwhelmed and nervous as he's left to tackle the last two or three stairs himself.

It's a relief to feel warm fingers wrap around his wrist again as his foot hits the top step. The rubbish music is muffled up here but the bass still pounds and vibrates through the walls. He can feel said vibrations as he's shoved up against the tiled wall of the disabled toilets.

The motion sensor light that leapt into life the second they crashed through the door of the loo - how romantic, honestly - flickers and is dim as all hell. He can make out fluffy brown, yes it's probably brown, hair and a lithe, petite body. That’s about it. He doesn't, however, need to see to be able to enjoy what comes next.

The guy latches on to his neck; the intoxicating mix of rough spiky scruff and possibly the softest lips known to mankind blows Harry’s mind in the best way possible. This is… certainly new for him. It’s not the first time he’s kissed or been kissed by a guy but it’s generally speaking not the norm.

He finds himself pretty much powerless to contribute much to what is going on.

He looks up at the corner where the wall meets the ceiling, revealing more neck for the guy to latch on to. He bites and he suckles and Harry doesn’t even care to think about the marks that might be left behind in the morning.

If Harry wasn't so drunk and horny, he'd question why the _hell_ the disabled toilet was up the top of the world’s steepest staircase. However, he doesn’t have time to worry about that. His accomplice has his jeans undone and hand inside his white Emporio Armani's before Harry can say 'Sparklers'. And, if he was more coherent and it wasn’t so distorted and trippy in this toilet, Harry could’ve got a proper look at his companion.

He's embarrassingly hard as the boy wraps his hand around him, lifting him out of his boxers and starting to pump steadily. Jesus Christ, he feels like is about to come already.

“Fuckin' hell, you're. .. you." He doesn't even try to finish his sentence.

"Shhhh... I’ve got you." The boy holds a finger to Harry's mouth then breaches his lips with his middle finger. _This must be a thing_ , Harry thinks as he suckles the digit in his mouth, flattening and curling his tongue around it as the boy gently coaxes it back and forth in his mouth. Harry thinks vaguely that the boy’s coordination is impressive.

Abruptly, the finger pops out of his mouth and the boy drops to his knees. Harry's stomach lurches as he realises what is happening and he cries out almost instinctively before the guy has even so much as pressed his lips to his cock.

"Eager, love." The boy says, mouth poised over his length, breath warm and tingling on his sensitive skin. Without another word, he closes his mouth over the tip and sinks down with his tongue flat against the underside; the gentle faint graze of teeth on the upper side. Harry shudders in the best way as his foreskin comes down and his head touches the back of the guy's throat. As he works his way back up he closes his mouth, sealing his warm, soft lips around Harry.

He has a determination in the way he works him; somewhere in the back of Harry's mind he supposes this guy must have a) done this before, and b) know what feels good, what will get Harry to where he wants to be. Which won't take long at this rate.

"So good..." the guy mutters, somehow, with his mouth still full of Harry. Harry moans appreciatively, agreeing wholeheartedly. He curls his shoulders inwards and presses his spine into the tiles, reaching out for something to hold on to. Without even breaking his rhythm, the boy catches one of Harry's flailing hands and slots it into his hair. Harry flexes his fingers and runs them through the velvet-like tresses; surprised at the softness for the amount of product he can see in the hair.

The boy groans encouragingly around him and the vibrations send illicit tremors right through his body, causing Harry to grip his hair tighter, pulling and kneading as he sucks him into oblivion.

"I'm gonna come." He manages to choke out, the boy welcoming this news with faster, tighter sucks. He bounces his head up and down on Harry's cock, swirling his tongue around his engorged head every time he bobs back up to the top. Harry feels himself once again hit the back of his throat once, twice, three times and with a firm grip on his hair and a garbled noise similar to 'ummfughhh', Harry bucks his hips off the wall and shoots down the back of the boys throat, his breath staggering and stuttering as he comes down from his high. The boy suckles short little bursts around the head, gentle and tantalising to his sensitive cock. When he finally pops off, his spit-slick cock tingles cool in the air.

He can taste himself on the guys tongue as he melts back into the wall with his determined little body pressed against him. He's still fucking hard, what the hell, and he's still exposed; his pink and saturated head pressed between their bodies causing him to flinch on the boundary between pain and pleasure.

The guy works quickly with his tongue, exploring every alcove and corner of Harry's mouth. His palms press into Harry's chest, bruising his bones but it feels too damn good to care. Then suddenly, as quickly as it began, the boy pulls away, steps backwards of his tiptoes and gives Harry one last look through heavy, shadowy lashes. He bites his lip as he rocks back and forth, still clutching the lapels of Harry’s shirt. It’s twisted around the tops of his arms and two buttons have come undone but Harry doesn’t care. With one last look, the boy lets go and disappears out the door.

Harry stays in the toilet for many minutes afterwards; alone and breathing heavy and tingling all over with what had just taken place. The door closes shut slowly, quite anticlimactic really. He feels numb on the outside and heavenly on the inside. He supposes he’d better pull his jeans back up.

Tucking himself away and pulling his jeans back up, he struggles with the fastening, quite possibly leaving the top button undone as he swipes for the handle and falls out into the corridor. The screaming red paint on the walls is somehow worse now he’s sobered up a bit.

He presses his hands so firmly into the walls of the staircase he fears he might go straight through the plaster board. Once he’s back on the ground and in the throng of sweaty, drunk partiers, he keeps one eye out for his mates and another out for his mystery bathroom buddy. Turns out, he finds his friends first.

Mikey and Jamie each shove a drink into his hands and like a sheep he follows them on their binge; knocking back another four shots. No one asks him where he'd been and he doesn't want to tell anyone. The last thing he can remember doing is posing for group pictures in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors that surround the dance floor.

*

Harry wakes with a sudden jolt. Bright white sunlight pours in through his undrawn curtains and there is a horrendous smell coming from somewhere. Sitting bolt upright, shoulders caved inwards and arms hanging languidly in his lap, he looks around the room.

With a sigh he topples back onto his side and screws his eyes tight shut as his head hits the pillow. Blindly, he pats around the mattress and then the floor for his phone, eventually finding it plugged into the wall charging. He pulls it out, eyes still closed and presses the side button to unlock it. Peering out of one eye, the screen is dimmed and he only has 6% battery. He frowns to himself and looks over at the socket; plugged in but not switched on. Great.

His second realisation isn’t a pleasant one either. It’s 11:52.

“Oh shit,” he mumbles as he pulls back his duvet and sinks his feet into the floor. Rising from his bed, his toes, ankles, knees, hips and spine all creak simultaneously as he staggers towards his chest of drawers. He steps into last night’s jeans and is indiscriminate in his selection of a t-shirt to wear.

He stumbles out of his front door three minutes later; he’s almost half an hour late so there’s no way he will be on time now but he will _try_ , dammit. After a quick detour to the shops.

The warm sun beaming down on his back makes Harry feel even sicker as he heads in the direction of his mum’s house. With a bottle of Evian in one hand and a Paw Patrol magazine in the other, he checks behind him and crosses the road to the other side, heads down the path between the houses and across the playing field.

Sunday morning football practice is going on and every hoof of the ball up the field makes him flinch and the shouting and cheering only adds to his sore head.

It’s ten past twelve when he arrives. He can hear shrieking and the heavy plod of footsteps bounding down the stairs as he pushes through the door and calls a feeble hello.

“Daddy!” A tiny voice is already shouting. His heart swells automatically as he sees his four and a half year old daughter Luna jump off the bottom step right into him.

“Oooh, hello flower, I missed you!” He hooks his hands under his daughter’s arms and lifts her easily into his arms. She wraps her legs around his middle and her arms around his neck and nuzzles into him.

“Have you been a good girl for Nanny?”

“Ye-e-esss!” She chimes adorably as she lifts her head up from his shoulder and smiles. He studies her face as if it’s the first time he’s seeing her. It feels like this every time. He’s blown away by the beauty of this creature he created; her honey blonde curls that match his in every way apart from their colour, her little button nose, the slight gap between her front teeth, her clear, porcelain skin and small, cute sticky-out ears.

His favourite part, though, is her eyes. His mum says they’re taken directly from Harry himself. It’s not just the olive green base colour but the amber flecks and the darker forest green shading around the outsides too.

“I slept in the bed with Nanny ‘cause I coulda sleep by my own! She lemme have biccies in bed!” Luna reveals proudly, before forming an ‘o’ with her lips and covering up a cheeky laugh, knowing full well she wasn’t supposed to tell daddy that.

“ _Luna_!” He chastises curtly, the little girl giggling maniacally in response to his exaggeratedly disapproving face. “You know biccies are for awake time not sleepy time.”

“I wasn’t asleeping though, daddy!” Luna replies. He spies his mum over Luna’s shoulder, leaning against the door frame with an affectionate smile on her face.

“Hey mumma,” He says softly to his mum Anne as he sets Luna down. She goes running straight to Anne again, charging at her legs. Harry passes Luna the magazine he’d got her, her eyes lighting up. “Careful, flower.”

As Luna and his mum head back into the kitchen, undoubtedly to start the activities in her new magazine, he wanders into the living room, surprised to see his older sister Gemma sat in the armchair with her legs wrapped under her, eyeing him judgementally with a smirk on her face.

“Hello, little brother.” She says, full of glee. “Good night?”

He sinks down on the sofa and props his head up in his hand. " _Nurghhhugf_ ," He groans indecipherably. Eventually, he answers, “Think so, can’t remember.”

Gemma barks out a loud laugh and it pains him. _Cow._

He drains his bottle of water, the plastic making stark cracking noises as it distorts and empties. As if by magic, his mum reappears with two cups of tea in hand. She sets them down one each and hooks a blister pack of Paracetamol at him.

“Here, take these, Mr Hangover.”

He gratefully accepts them and pops two, washing them down with much too hot tea. He leans over and grabs the remote control from Gemma, notching down the whining drone of Formula One cars speeding around the circuit. She gives him a look and snatches it back but doesn’t turn it back up again, thankfully.

*

Luna isn’t amused when Harry tells her it’s time to go home. It’s now getting on for 4pm, and with his mum’s Sunday roast and four cups of tea in him, he feels somewhat human again. It’s not quite as hot now as they stroll home, Luna starting off well and bounding ahead of him, before she slows and starts dragging her feet.

“C’mon, Lune, almost home.” He encourages her, wrapping his hand around her shoulder and coaxing her along. She walks with her feet pointed inwards, the soles of her shoes scraping over the loose stones and chips of concrete on the path.

“Tired, daddy!”

“That’s ‘cause you were up all night chin-wagging with Nanny.”

“Can you carry me?” She asks, sticking out her leg and pointing her toe to the floor.

“No, daddy’s too tired as well, you can walk like me.”

“Noo-ooo!” She whines, stopping walking all together.

“C’mon, flower, we’ll take little steps for little legs.” He says, demonstrating a tiny little shuffle.

“Please, daddy, I’m tired legs!” He looks at her for a minute, staring up at him with a pet lip.

“Urgh, fine!” He passes her her rucksack to put on her back and then lifts her onto his shoulders with a 1, 2, 3, up! She shrieks and yells and digs her fingers into his scalp as he strides back towards their flat; reversing the route he’d taken four hours previously.

*

Luna miraculously recovers from her bout of tiredness when they get home. In the ten minutes that Harry spends in the kitchen preparing their tea, she’s jumped on his bed, fell off his bed, jumped on the sofa, left the bathroom tap running (thankfully without the plug in) and taken out all of the DVD’s and requested they watch Lady and the Tramp again for the ninth time that week.

“After dinner,” Harry says wearily as he plates up fish fingers chips and peas on a dinner plate for himself and a smaller, green plastic plate for Luna. Her overwhelming desire to watch Lady and the Tramp renders Luna unable to eat her tea properly, and the whole event is an ordeal.

Harry _wishes_ he wasn’t so hungover trying to deal with this. He tries everything, but even the old classic Daddy Airlines flight from Dinner Plate Airport to Luna Island fails.

By half past six, Luna is collapsed on the sofa clutching her blankie with her thumb in her mouth and Lady and the Tramp on the TV. Admitting defeat, he silently curses himself as he comes back in from the kitchen with a plate of Nutella on toast cut into little triangles. She devours in seconds of course.

*

Once Luna is asleep, he starts his half-arsed attempt at tidying up. The plates on the dinner table and the cups on the coffee table make their way to the kitchen but not into the sink. He straightens the cushions and folds their fleecy blanket.

He opens a window in the kitchen to get some fresh air circulating, and bleaches the toilet. He also ventilates his bedroom, going around and gathering up his discarded clothes from the floor. He picks his shirt from last night up off the floor with his toe and kicks it onto the bed; the thought of bending down to the floor giving him a nausea attack.

As he leans over to pick it up off the bed he gets hit with an overpowering wave of an unfamiliar aftershave that most definitely is _not_ his own. A few blurry memories come back to him in short, sharp bursts as he breathes in the scent. He can remember smaller hands, men’s hands, on the back of his neck and side of his face. The strange combination of fresh mint and bitter beer. A quirk of surprise but not necessarily confusion. Desire.

He stands in the middle of his bedroom clutching the t-shirt to his chest like an idiot; every inhale taking him back to the night before. Three deep breaths and then with a sigh, he tosses it into the washing basket and wanders out the room.

*

By Monday morning, he’s written off the weekend as a distant drunken memory and it's back to reality: drop Luna at preschool for 8am, then to work all day until picking Luna up at about quarter to five, then tea, bath time, TV time, story time then bed.

Luna skips along three paces ahead of him. He’d managed to convince her against the Elsa leggings and into jean leggings, but she’d kept on her Sofia the First t-shirt. Her curls are scraped back into a plait – Harry had learned early on how to plait hair and he’d often end up with plaits hidden in his own curls – which bobs along as she moves.

He scrapes along in his own rather dashing work attire: cement splattered Dickies, work boots and a hi-vis vest. Unfortunately, he isn’t afforded the luxury of nice clothes to drop his kid off in like the other parents, but he’s past the point of worrying what other people might think. He’s got a lot against him: single parent, young parent – formerly teen parent, he’s not sure ‘scruffy parent’ is something he needs to be concerned about.

He feels an overwhelming surge of proudness as she stops just before the edge of the path and waits for him to cross. They don’t drop hands once on the other side of the road; Harry guides her into the playground, up to the steps and presses the buzzer at the main door.

When it’s time to go in to her playroom, she hugs his legs weakly. He says a soft ‘miss you, flower’ under his breath as his fingertips leave her skin. The teacher checking the kids in, Lauren, smiles warmly at him. They all seem to gravitate towards him; Harry was informed by Gemma that it’s unfortunately unusual to see a single dad and for a lot of women it makes their ovaries explode with how endearing it is. Harry doesn’t mind, he likes the attention.

At work, he’s just Harry again, and he doesn’t struggle with the transition. He loves working outdoors in the summer, when the suns shining and he can get some warmth. It’s not so fun in the dead of winter when it’s icy underfoot and the sky is a thick blanket of grey cloud.

The van picks them up in order of geographical location and takes them to wherever they’re working; at the moment they’ve got a six month contract landscaping gardens in 200 new houses on an estate being built. It’s good to be based somewhere long term, makes planning childcare and allowing himself enough time to do everything easier.

He sits next to Mikey in the van, the two of them thick as thieves since year seven. From the grim and fixed expression on Mikey’s pale face, he must still be recovering from Saturday night’s bender too.

“Alright, Mike?” Harry asks as he falls into the seat next to him and fumbles idly for his seatbelt. “You’re looking a bit worse for wear there.”

“Urgh, don’t, I went back out last night too.”

“Ah, I’ve no sympathy then!” Harry says, turning away from Mikey theatrically in his seat. Mikey is unlikely to remember much from Saturday night. He doesn’t mention anything about Harry disappearing off for prolonged amounts of time, and he assumes that if they’d caught him mid-tryst with a man, they’d have a few follow up questions.

Mikey prattles on for an extended period about how wasted he was and the new triple stack Louisiana BBQ burger he’d had at the pub. Harry agrees that it sounds good and he’ll try it next time. To his credit, Mikey asks after ‘Little Luna’, checking she’s alright and if she misses mad uncle Mikey.

It’s sticky, headache-inducingly hot already, and by the 11am tea break, its 27° on the thermometer. Everywhere Harry looks there are bare tummies, bum cracks and football tattoos. He downs a lukewarm Tetley tea and re-does his bun; a disgusting sheen of sweat has congealed under the flyaway strands of baby hair around his neck and the relief of wiping it away is only momentary.

Ten minutes later, with a Greggs chocolate éclair and a refill in his water bottle, it’s back to work again.

*

He digs out the foundation for twenty six garden patios. His muscles scream with the ache of repeated digging and hauling dusty, parched earth out of the way. All winter they collectively moan for the long lost heat of summer, but right now Harry would give anything to have a bit of respite from it.

His mind has a habit of skittering from one thing to another at high speed, leaving him physically and mentally exhausted. By the time they’ve packed up and chained up all the machinery for tomorrow, they’re ten minutes over finishing time and Harry knows it’s going to be a rush to get to the preschool in time.

Luna had had a meltdown during the first month of preschool when it got to five to five and it was just her and one other little boy left waiting to be picked up. She'd thought he’d forgotten about her and she’d have to stay at preschool forever.

He’s got his seatbelt off and he’s poised ready to jump out of the van before Steve has even pulled up to a stop. Someone smacks his arse as he jumps out. He bangs on the side of the van as he goes, wishing them well on their way to a chorus of ‘see ya tomorrow’ and ‘cheers mate, see ya!’.

He jogs up to ramp to the doors of Luna’s preschool, not technically late yet but later than he’d like to be. Rachel, one of the teachers, is at the door letting another child out to their parents, and smiles warmly as she calls Luna out. She comes rushing out and her face lights up when she spots him, making all the dashing about worth it.

*

Tuesday brings much of the same. He drops Luna off in her blue and white polka dot dress, leggings and cardigan and heads off to work.

It’s even hotter than the day before, 31° by lunch, and reluctantly he’s so hot he has to strip off his t-shirt, much to the delight of the guys who chant and wolf whistle as he peels out of his sweat damp t-shirt. He spends the rest of the afternoon in just his hi-vis vest; t-shirt tucked into the back pocket of his cargo shorts.

When he clocks out at 4:30, his shoulders are red and aching, his hands calloused and rough from lifting concrete slabs for his patios all afternoon. He sees squares of patio slabs every time he closes his eyes. One of the guys throws himself over the back of the seat and squeezes Harry’s shoulders, causing him a great deal of pain. It occurs to him that he wishes he had someone at home to put after sun on him.

The walk from the corner where the van drops him to Luna’s preschool isn’t far but legs feel like jelly and his whole body feels like it’s dripping in sweat as he arrives in the reception area.

“Luna Styles' dad,” He says to an unfamiliar looking teacher eyeing him quizzically. She appears to hesitate, face fixed into a strange smile, before nodding and scurrying in to fetch her.

“Daddy daddy daddy!” Luna sings as she races past the teacher into his arms. He lifts her clean off the floor, her featherweight body a doddle compared to the stuff he’d been lugging about all day.

“Have you been good, flower?” She nods dramatically with a devilish glint in her eye. That could mean she actually _not_ been good at all, but thankfully the teacher agrees that she has been good. Harry notices a red smiley face sticker on Luna’s chest.

“Thanks very much!” He charms the teacher, gathering Luna’s jacket and backpack from her coat peg. He turns to call her back from the table top train track she is just about to start playing with, when it hits him. His heart almost leaps out of his chest when it does.

He _knows_ that aftershave, that’s…. Jesus, it _must_ be a coincidence. It’s probably a common scent; millions of blokes probably wear it. But as he slowly and discreetly looks up, it hits him like a tonne of bricks. Things are a lot clearer in the cold hard light of day.

The speckle of scruff is gone but the soft, fluffy looking brown – he _knew_ it was brown – hair that sweeps across from the side is the same. God, what has he done? Is this really happening?

He kind of pauses; suspended in mid-air with his hand on Luna’s peg, ready to grab her belongings. The guy is either unaware he’s being watched or he’s got a really good poker face. He continues to shuffle behind several little people, supervising tidy up time apparently. He follows behind picking up haphazardly strewn story books and stray items from the make believe corner. He smiles intently to every little face that peers back up at him, his face alive and animated whenever he speaks to a child.

Harry can’t concentrate to sign his own name on the pick-up sheet. His spidery scrawl is unrecognisable as ‘dad’, his hand unable to grip the pen well enough to actually write with any legibility. He can feel his cheeks go pink with furious embarrassment as he looks up to gather Luna and comes face to face with the guy. He groans to himself silently as realisation of about eighty percent accuracy hits him.

"Oh... Hi!" The guy says, smiling thoughtfully as if pieces of the puzzle are slotting into place for him too. He looks so calm and collected though, whilst there is a fire on top of a tsunami on top of a blizzard going on inside Harry. Harry smiles weakly and bolts for the door, ushering a confused Luna out without another word.

 _Crap_ , he’d got with one of his daughters teachers…

 

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely response so far, thank you all :)
> 
> Hope you enjoy chapter two.

"Flower, who was the teacher, with the brown hair by the reading corner?” Harry asks as they walk away from the building.

“Oh, do you mean Rachel, Daddy?”

“No, the teacher who is a boy.” He hopes his voice isn’t quavering as much as it sounds like it is in his head.

“Ohh! Daddy, that’s Louis! He is a boy teacher, does football with us!”

“Oh right.” Harry says weakly. Harry’s sure that’s him. “Thanks.”

He tries to skim his (limited) memories of Saturday night for any mention of the name Louis. It feels kind of familiar but Harry thinks that’s probably the amount of times his brain has repeated it to him since he learned it a few moments ago.

Same hair? _Yes._

Same aftershave? _Definitely._

Same soft lips and eager tongue? _Shut up, Harry._

Luna doesn’t ask why, for once, and he’s glad. He’s not sure what he’d say. It’d be a little rich of him to lie to her when he spends all his time encouraging her to always be truthful. It’s not the first time something like this could have happened - God, he sounds like a tart. He’d never thought about calling himself unequivocally bisexual, but at the same time he couldn’t say he is particularly straight, either.

Ordinarily, he could handle this. A random hook up – of any gender – never to be seen again is fine. Well, not _fine_ , but you know. Knowing that the bloke who had got down on his knees for him five minutes after meeting him was one of Luna’s preschool teachers makes him feel weird. Surely that is a line crossed? There must be some sort of law against that?

“Daddy, is you not talking t’me? Did I do some-fing wrong?” Luna’s voice brings him back to reality. He looks down at her and sees her big wide eyes staring back up at him, concern painted on her features.

“Sorry, flower,” He squeezes her hand tighter. “I was just daydreaming."

“Ohh, silly Daddy!” She chuckles, rolling her eyes playfully at him; the Luna Look.

“Hey Lune?” He asks brightly, the little girl looking up at him with wide eyes. “Wanna go to the shops and pick a sweetie?”

“Yeah yeah yeah!” She drops his hand like a shot and bounds on ahead.

“Careful! Slow _down_ , Luna!” He calls after her as she skips merrily over the grass.

*

Luna sits cross-legged in front of the TV (probably a little too close) with her blankie, sweets and a drink, leaving Harry free to make tea without distractions for once in his life. Though at this moment in time, his inner voice is doing his head in and he wishes he could think about something else.

He pours over everything he can remember as he distractedly prepares Mediterranean vegetable pasta bake, which sounds a lot posher than it is.

He couldn’t remember Luna ever mentioning this teacher before, but then he didn’t have a reason to be listening out for the name 'Louis' before. He'd probably heard her talk about him a million times before and not thought anything of it. She'd prattled on about football practice at preschool for an entire evening one time; Harry figures quickly that Louis must have been there for that.

He thinks briefly about his other experiences with people of the same gender as him. He could count them all on one hand; there was nothing more than a drunken fumble or a snog as part of merry game of truth or dare. Luna, obviously, was the result of a relationship with a girl, no matter how tumultuous and brief it was. Could he put this down to a drunken act of braveness, the inclination to try something new? Had he just got swept away by the intoxication (both literal and figurative) between the two of them? It probably means nothing. If this guy had just been some random old nobody not a bloody teacher at his kids preschool, he wouldn’t even be thinking about this right now. It's only because they've been linked together in their 'real lives' that he's having these thoughts.

Once the initial recognition is over, he's sure it'll pass. Luna only has a month or so left of preschool then she starts proper school (sob). He can ride this out 'til then.

Luna eats the spoonfuls of pasta bake held together with globules of melty cheese, but the rest of it is a struggle. Harry eats his own in record time so he can lean across the table to feed her himself. He’d sworn he'd stop doing this when she turned three but alas, here they are at almost five and he's still doing it to make his life easier. He also probably shouldn’t have let her have sweets before teatime, but again, it’d happened.

" _C'mon_ , Lune, you have to eat the vegetables otherwise you won’t grow big and strong."

"But Auntie Gems told me you never liked a vegetables but you still growed up big, Daddy."

 _Bloody Gemma_ , he thinks, rolling his eyes. "Auntie Gemma is lying. I loved vegetables. Still do in fact." He emphasises his empty plate and gives her an almost pleading look. She gives him an award-winning smile with a glint in her eye but luckily she opens up for a mouthful. Harry is sure to get extra courgette and aubergine on the forkful as it might be the only bite she takes.

By the time she scrambles into bed, she's somehow tricked him into agreeing to read her three stories, one of them being Cinderella which is 23 pages long. It’s going to be one of those nights.

*

Harry's heart is in his mouth as they approach the preschool the next morning; Luna's hand clammy in his as he swings her backpack with the other, trying to relax. His work boots feel like lead weights around his ankles, dragging him down into the concrete. He hopes and prays that maybe the bloke - sorry, _Louis_ \- won’t be working today or something.

He can feel his heart beating in his arms and his legs as they are buzzed in to the reception and make their way towards Luna’s room. So far, nothing. He pushes the door open for Luna; the handles are at adult eye-level for safety.

The corridor between reception and Luna’s class feels like it’s shrunk; _too_ quickly they’re at the door being greeted by another teacher, Cassie. Harry is autonomous and shut-down in the way he hangs up Luna’s fleece and backpack, scribbles ‘dad’ next to her name in the ‘time in’ column and gives her a goodbye squeeze of the shoulder.

“Love you, babe.”

“Love you Daddy, bye!”

Cassie exudes fond at them as Luna wriggles out of his grasp and scuttles into the classroom, not looking back. Harry smiles vacantly before mumbling a quick thanks and disappearing out of the door before he can be spotted by anyone else. The tingling in his limbs and the itching of his palms is misplaced as he escapes from the preschool unscathed.

Where he should be feeling relief he’s feeling disappointment. Did he _want_ to be seen again? He didn’t _think_ he did but the unsettled feeling in his tummy confuses him. He’s felt confused since Saturday night; it’s like a permanent state of being now. He wonders if Louis might be avoiding him, bowled over by the realisation of the mistake their encounter was. Maybe this whole thing just needs to be awkwardly avoided and ignored until Harry no longer has a reason to be here every day. Maybe he should just give up and move the hell on already.

He doesn’t have to wait long to find out.

*

He makes it to Friday without getting caught. He ferries Luna to and from preschool as quickly as possible, not hanging about to chatter or gaze in at the newborns in their pushchairs like he normally would, befriending the mothers for five minutes a day.

He’s glad it’s Friday. Mikey had spent their lunch hour on the phone coordinating beers at The Crown with Jamie and Danny, and it’s arranged that the four of them plus Jamie’s brother Matt and his flatmate Conor will meet at 7.30pm at the pub.

The Crown is considerably closer to his flat than town, so he won’t be in _so_ much of a rush tonight, but he still has just about two and a half hours to get Luna, pack her things, give her tea, get her to his mums, come home, change and get to the pub. He feels giddy with excitement and adrenaline as he makes his first stop at the preschool. Forgetting himself, he buzzes in and strides into the reception area, waving broadly at the Receptionist Tina.

He hopes there aren’t too many parents milling around, it will take forever to get to Luna and he has a time schedule he has to adhere to. Of course he doesn’t _have_ to but he _wants_ to after the week he’s had. He can forget his woes under the weight of many, many beers and wake up tomorrow with a fresh outlook on life. Well, maybe after a greasy breakfast, a cuppa and a shower he will feel fresh.

As he thuds up the corridor towards Luna’s room, boots thudding heavily on the rust coloured carpet tiles, he hears a small voice behind him.

“’Scuse me?”

He spins around, unable to pretend like he didn’t hear because there is no one else here. His heart races as he comes face to face with Louis. He’d spent all week wondering how he’d feel when it finally happened, and now it was finally happening he felt relief. It was a strange emotion to have, not one he expected.

The famous Louis peers back at him; hair as perfectly tousled and sweeping as ever, radiant in his sky blue ‘Butterflies Preschool’ polo and black skinny jeans. Harry feels positively homeless in his paint spattered shorts, work boots and an ancient Nike t-shirt.

“Ah, I thought it was you!” The boy speaks so softly, his smile lighting up as they make eye contact for the first time. “Hi, sorry, uh, this is weird. I saw you at the beginning of the week and I thought… but then I thought no it can’t be. But… sorry, God, I’m rambling now.”

“It’s, okay?” Harry manages to stammer out, his own gravelly voice much harder and louder than the other.

“I’m sorry to approach you like this, totally unprofessional, I just…” He trails off, seemingly not about to finish his sentence.

“It’s okay.” Harry says again, like it’s the only phrase he knows.

Louis smiles back at him, hovering but his smile unwavering. Suddenly, he opens his eyes wide and claps his hands together. The sound reverberates around the narrow space and Harry feels shot. “I’m Louis, by the way.”

 _I know,_ Harry thinks, reaching behind him for something to hold on to. “Harry.”

“Hi, Harry.” Louis says, a wondrous pondering in his eyes. The tension is palpable but not in a necessarily bad way. “I didn’t, um… I’m sorry if I, y’know?”

It’s the most fractured sentence in the history of the English language and sentences in general, but somehow Harry understands. He just nods, freezing as a mum and a boy from Luna’s class Harry knows to be called Tyreece go past. Harry supposes there is nothing much suspicious about the way they’re standing here together, but he feels like its painted all over his body. His eyes wander over Louis’ shoulder, following Tyreece and his mum towards the door at the end of the corridor. It hits him then that anyone could come past, suspecting or otherwise, and suddenly he wakes up.

“Look, I… Luna, y’know?” He stumbles over his words, not much better than Louis.

“Of course.” Louis puts his hands together like he’s going to clap again but he doesn’t make a sound. He lowers his head and Harry takes that as his opportunity to bolt.

 _Christ! Well that was sufficiently awkward,_ he thinks to himself as he charges down the corridor towards the door, unaware if Louis is following him or not. He barely hears himself speak as he greets the teacher at the door and gathers Luna’s stuff up, waiting for her to come charging out.

He adopts tunnel vision as he sees her tanking towards him; if Louis is around anywhere he’ll just pretend he can’t see him. “Daddy!” She greets him, armed with a painting of a rainbow on over-saturated crinkled paper. “For you!”

“Oh, thanks babes, I love it. You been good?”

“Yep!” She says proudly, popping the P. “All good in the hood, mate!”

Harry, and the teacher at the door, burst into laughter at that. Bloody Mikey teaching her things. “Good, well that’s alright then. Say bye, see you tomorrow.”

“See you ‘morrow!” Luna chants as they make their way towards the door again.

Harry holds his breath as he goes, head down and hand firmly guiding Luna’s shoulder. He can finally breathe again once they’re out in the playground heading towards the gates. Luna squeals in delight when he tells her she’s going for a sleepover at Nanny’s house;’ it’s all she talks about the whole way home.

He remembers a frozen Luna-sized portion of roast dinner bought home from his mums in the freezer, so he chucks that in the microwave on defrost while he pulls Luna’s bigger backpack from under her bed and chucks in a spare change of clothes, pyjamas and clothes for tomorrow.

“Where are you goin’ tonight, Daddy?” Luna asks as she deliberates her forkful of roast potato and broccoli.

“Out with my friends, baby.”

“Can I not come?”

“No, the pub is only for grownups.”

“But I’ve been to the pub before.” She points out. “For dinner.”

That’s true. They’d gone to The Wheat Field for a pub meal for his mum’s 50th birthday. “Yeah, but at night, it’s only for big boys and girls.”

“Who you going with?”

“All my friends, and Jamie’s brother and his friend too.”

“Is Mikey going be there?” She asks, her eyes lighting up. “I _love_ Mikey!”

“Yes, Mikey will be there.” Harry says with a soft laugh, coaxing Luna into spearing another mouthful of dinner. It’s already approaching quarter past six and time is slipping away from him.

“Oh, but I will miss him!” Luna says through a lovely mouthful of carrots and peas and gravy.

“I will tell him you said hello.” Harry reassures her, Luna cheering at that and mercifully cooperating to finish three quarters of her tea. “Good enough!”

She rides her scooter over to Anne’s, gliding on ahead as Harry lugs himself along as fast as he can behind. His calves burn from the heaviness of his week, and even when he’s out of his work boots and in his Converse, he can feel the phantom bulk of the boots weighing him down.

He’s an embarrassing, sweating mess when he arrives at his mum’s doorstep.

“Wow, you look a bit rough, darling!” His mum greets him as she opens the door to him propped up against the door frame with his arm. “Think you should be going to bed not to the pub.”

“Hmmm,” He waves his hand dismissively. “I’ll be alright once I get me breath back.”

“Come in, do you want a drink? Cuppa?”

Harry looks at the wall clock; it’s ten to seven now. He has forty minutes to get ready, travel time included. “Just a glass of juice or something, no time.”

He has a glass of pulp-free orange juice in his hands before he can blink. _Good old mum._ She gives him the usual pre-bender lecture: don’t forget your responsibilities, don’t make an idiot of yourself and treat any ladies you might come across with respect.

Harry wonders vaguely if that rule would extend to any men that he comes across. Or in the mouth of, he supposes. He cringes internally, feeling half-proud half-disgusted with his joke.

“Don’t worry, we’re just off to The Crown, few beers and a plate of greasy chips at the end of the night.” He tries to placate his mum, though he supposes she’s heard _that_ one before. He downs his juice so fast it makes his tummy expand and hurt. Swallowing it down, he scoops Luna up and peppers a million kisses over her cheek, forehead and nose.

“Daddy, get off me!” She shrieks, kicking her legs wildly.

“I’m not Daddy, I’m the Kisses Monster!” He howls, opening his mouth wide and sweeping in for more kisses. “You are my favourite little girl to kiss!”

He puts her down when she clocks him a goodun in the shoulder with her heel. “Right, Luna Flower, I’m going now. I’ll be here tomorrow to pick you up. Be good for Nanny and no biccies in bed! In fact, no Nanny’s bed full stop. You’re a big girl now.”

Anne clucks and fusses, tipping her head to one side and ‘awww-ing’ as Luna pouts. “Thanks mum, bye, love you.”

“Love you too, darling. Be safe.”

“I will. Bye Lune, love you babes.”

“Love you, Daddy. See you ‘morrow!”

“See you ‘morrow, love.”

*

He’s only ten minutes late getting to the pub. With the product Gemma recommended to him taming back his shoulder length curls and his freshly ironed black and grey checked shirt, he feels calm and relaxed again. He feels even better as he takes his first sip of cool, crisp beer.

The lads share banter together, laugh and joke and the ripples of barking laughter that erupt from their table must be quite distracting, but they’re ordering beers at a rate of knots so the bar staff probably don’t have a leg to stand on.

Jamie’s brother Matt and his flatmate are good laughs, sharing hilarious tales about the holiday Conor, his girlfriend Lisa, his mum, dad and brother went on to Gran Canaria. Harry knows he won’t remember most of this in the morning, and it probably doesn’t matter, but right now he’s having fun.

“Oh, Lune says hi.” He says during a brief lull, looking over at Mikey with glassy eyes.

“Oh, good old Luna. I miss her, will have to pop round one weekend mate, when I’m not _hanging_ out my _arse_!”

“Who’s Luna, your missus?” Conor asks.

“No, no, Luna is Harry’s daughter.” Jamie informs them, Conor and Matt both looking surprised.

“Daughter, really? How often do you have her?”

“Um, all the time?” Harry answers, annoyed that this is _still_ such a surprise to some people.

“How come you have her? In’t that normally the mum’s job to have the kids?”

Harry feels rattled by that comment but does his best to let it slide. “No, she’s mine. Her mum isn’t involved at all.”

“Fuck, that’s crap, in’t it?”

A few heads nod around the table, but Mikey and Jamie remain steadfastly stoic. “No, it’s nice. Wouldn’t change her for the world, mate.”

“That’s fair enough,” Conor says, seemingly largely unbothered by the news. They soon move on to bigger and more interesting topics of conversation and Harry’s woes are basically forgotten by the time two bowls of chips are placed down at their table forty five minutes later.

Someone shouts for a ‘Lewis’ somewhere at the other end of the pub and Harry’s heart leaps into his mouth. He hadn’t thought about Louis all night, and now he isn’t too sure why. Louis with his hair and his small little hands and his stupid sharp cheekbones that jut out as his cheeks sink in around his… _God, enough Harry._

“Y’ alright, Haz? ‘Nother beer?” Mikey’s hand waving in front of his face breaks him from his X-rated reverie.

“Uh, yeah, go on then.” Harry agrees, digging a few quid out of his jeans pocket as a token donation, only to be waved off by Mikey.

“Mate, it’s on me.”

*

Two more beers and another plate of chips later, its quarter to midnight and they boys are all rallying around to try and convince Harry to come into town with them. Harry feels a bit like the wind has been let down from his sails, though. He uses Luna as an excuse and no-one can _really_ question him on it; it's a solid alibi. Mikey gives him a strange look as if to say 'you sure you're okay?' and he nods urgently.

"Mum needs to be out tomorrow at ten so I have to be there early to get Lune." He lies effortlessly to his best friend, and it does sting but it'd sting more being stuck in town getting even more drunk and out of control when he actually doesn't want to be, for once.

"Alright, mate, well, give the angel a kiss from me, yeah?"

"Yeah, will do, bud." He agrees, slapping Mike on the arm before the other man pulls him into a tight embrace.

It's a lot easier to get past the other guys. He goes around them all saying a brief goodbye, and stepping out of the door into the sun-drenched road is a relief. His legs carry him quickly; a rush but nothing like the rush he'd been in to get here. Even though it’s past midnight by this point, the sky still seems to glow above him, not yet black but rather an inky blue, tiny pinpricks of platinum dotted randomly. The moon is behind him, his lanky shadow sweeping silently across the paving slabs in front of him, moving to his side once he turns the corner. By the time he gets to the playing field that backs out onto his mum's house, he's forgotten all about shadows. He looks to his left at the sea of houses about two hundred or so meters away. Most windows are illuminated and the street lights glow orange. He can hear cars in the distance zipping about towards the main road. He thinks about his little Luna Flower so close. She’d be sleeping now, that perpetual frown that furrows in her brows during her slumber, her lips separated with little puffs of snuffly air escaping on every out breath. Only ten or so more hours and he can go and get her.

His flat is painfully silent as he creeps - it's habit even though he's home alone - to his bedroom, loosening the top three buttons on his shirt so he can fucking breathe. He throws himself down on his bed, thinking to himself that as it’s after midnight, he has officially 'known' Louis for a week now. That thought plays heavily on his mind as he sinks back against the mattress and fiddles idly with the button of his tight, tight jeans. He doesn’t want to admit to himself what he is about to do, maybe that’s the reason for the teasing stalling he is doing by fiddling with the button. He studies the pattern in the Artex on the ceiling to the best of his drunken abilities as he tries to convince himself not to do it. He’s still telling himself to stop being so stupid as he’s undoing his jeans and lifting his bum off the bed to shuck his jeans and boxers down.

He sighs heavily as he begins to stroke his length, already half way to hard. he looks down from the ceiling and over his tummy going up and down slowly, to his hand working its way over his cock. He tenses his muscles and his cock bounces up into his hand. He wraps his palm around himself from the underside and begins to tug languidly, not wanting to admit how badly he needs to get off. He flits between eyes open looking at a stray sock on the floor to eyes closed, squeezed so tightly shut that all he sees are fluorescent splodges in the vast blackness.

He's fully firm within literal seconds, ready to go as he succumbs to the hazy memories and the fading visuals of a week ago. He scolds himself by holding his breath for three pumps, before releasing his jagged breath and working himself tighter, quicker.

"Fucking hell..." He mutters helplessly to himself as he's rock solid and leaking pre-come in his hand. He smears specks of it onto his fingers as he wanks furiously, desperate for release but hating himself at the same time for coming home just to have a sodding wank. "Mmmm, fuck, yeah..."

He pictures Louis bobbing about on his knees for him, remembers the way his hair felt threaded between his fingers and how he'd like to feel it again. Then he remembers how off-limits Louis is and how that makes everything ten times worse but ten times fucking hotter at the same time. He repeats 'yeah, yeah' under his breath to himself as he feels all that intense build up release, his right leg coming up off the bed as the swirling inside him gives way to four thick ribbons of come.

He shudders and moans on the bed, come in the short hair around the base of his cock, in his bellybutton and even as far up as his chest, just below his right nipple. He stays there still for a few minutes, his contributions drying and becoming crisp on his skin when he eventually goes to move.

*

Even though it had been a lie, he still arrives early at his mum's the next morning. He figures he's redeemed himself for being forty five minutes late last week. His mum eyes him suspiciously when she lets him in - he was so early the front door was still locked.

"Have you even been to bed?" Anne questions him sceptically in the kitchen as she opens the mug cupboard to make them a brew.

"Yes, I honestly turned in early, I told you. I wasn't lying." He watches Luna outside in the garden shovelling sand from her sandpit to the empty paddling pool she must have convinced his mum to inflate. He stood at the patio doors, knocked once and waved when he'd first arrived but she was so engrossed in playing she hadn't bothered coming in to greet him properly. He got a half-hearted wave and a killer smile instead.

"Why?" Anne presses, still looking unconvinced.

Harry _obviously_ isn't going to tell her what he _actually_ did when he got home, so he makes something up. "I was tired, wanted to save my money, so just got straight into bed and watched Celebrity Juice on ITV2+1." Wow, if there's a record for the most lies told in one sentence, Harry might just steal it.

After the kettles boiled, she suggests they sit in the garden with Luna. Harry agrees and dips in to the biscuit barrel before heading out to the back.

"Oi, Luna Flower, I've been here for ten minutes and I haven't got a kiss yet." He says as he sits down. His mum has had this garden furniture for ten years if she's had it a day. 'Harry Woz Ere' is carved on the underside of one of the seats. 2007 Harry was really Cool.

"Arghhh," Luna huffs, putting down her spade and stomping over to him, offering herself rigidly for a hug. "I _am_ busy playing Daddy."

"What're you playing?" Harry asks as he smacks a kiss onto her temple.

"I'm being the builder like you, Daddy." She explains as she goes back to her spade and sand pile. It’s moments like this that make Harry's heart beat too fast in his chest. "It's hard work, gotta have a tea break soon!"

His mum laughs as she joins them, nicking one of the chocolate Digestives he'd selected for himself. "Daddy _does_ have a lot of tea breaks."

"Oi, you two girls, stop ganging up on me! I've got two hundred gardens to dig over in six months. Front and back, that's essentially four hundred gardens!"

"Whatcha think Lunes, do you think Daddy works hard or is he a bit of a wet blanket really?"

"Ummm...." She pats her finger to her lip as if thinking about it _really_ hard. "He works a bit hard, I suppose."

Anne laughs and Harry pretends to sulk. Luna loses her chill with him at that, she finds it _hilarious,_ her shrieks echoing around the garden. Once he’s finished his tea he gets down on the grass with her and helps her move sand from one place to another. She gets her tipper truck out of the garden shed and that opens up another hour or so of play.

*

Harry seems able to avoid Louis during the Monday morning drop off, whether that means Louis is avoiding _him_ too or its as innocent as Louis doesn’t work mornings, Harry isn’t sure. It still doesn’t stop him from scuffling out of the place like a shot once Luna is gone.

In the van on the way to the site, Mikey calls him out on his disappearing act on Friday night. There’s nowhere for Harry to go, the only thing he has to fall back on are elaborate lies and stories.

"Alright, bud? Y'missed a goodun Friday."

"Oh yeah, gutted. Next time maybe?" Harry says, adding 'maybe' at the last minute even though it was unlikely he'd be able to get out of a second night out.

"You got somethin' on your mind?" Mikey asks, eyes narrowing, though it’s hard to take him seriously with the dust of cement mix on his cheek and the end of his nose.

"No, not at all mate. It was Luna, honestly."

"Well... y'know you can tell me if you're in any trouble." Mikey says, and Harry wonders what the _hell_ Mikey thinks he gets up to in his spare time. "It's not Claire is it?"

"No, God no!" Harry finds himself laughing oddly. God, this problem is almost the total _opposite_ of his onetime ex-girlfriend/baby mother. "Nope, no baby mama drama, Mike."

Mikey's features give in to a warm, closed eye grin and he punches Harry's shoulder affectionately. "Good! Well y'know I'm here if you need, like, y'know, anything?"

Harry nods but inside he's scoffing. Yeah, cuz he can just sit Mikey down and tell him _last Saturday a bloke sucked me off in the club and turned out to be one of my kid's teachers so I can do bugger all about it but here's the killer, I can't actually stop thinking about him,_ can't he?

Harry is incredibly glad to arrive at work. He pushes his tribulation to another part of his brain and loses himself in patio slabs and measurements for his plots. It works well for him for the rest of the week. He can balance out the fleeting Louis sightings with hard work and dedication to his cause. If nothing else, his bosses will be happy.

*

Another week passes and its Friday again. The day starts out unbearably hot, even at 9am it’s unbearable. Harry is irritated by the heat, it makes it impossible to work and he has a tension headache before he’s even got out of the van.

The gentle pitter-patter of rain starts during their tea break and by 11:30 the clouds break and the sky gives in. The sun beams behind the charcoal grey clouds, making the entire sky shine. The light reflects off the raindrops that pelt down on them, pinging off the machinery and quickly filling up the pot holes and crevices in the surrounding landscape. There’s moaning and groaning all round; hoodie hoods going up and sleeves being rolled down, but then an almighty clap of thunder rumbles in and lightning forks through the sky.

“Everyone inside!” Dave, the site supervisor, shouts, swinging his arm towards the rickety old pre-fab hut. With the eight from Harry’s team and six more from another division, the hut creaks and groans with the extra weight not only of their bodies but the rain that hammers down on the flat roof. It’s such a din; the noise of the rain and the excited chatter of people caught in a thunder storm.

Harry’s first thought is Luna. She hasn’t lived through many thunderstorms yet and she’s bound to be terrified. His palms itch to make for the door handle and get to her, but he tells himself he’s being stupid. She’s perfectly safe and in good hands with her teachers. Speaking of teachers…

They’re let off early, at midday, because of the storm. Arriving home at half past twelve with over four hours until he has to fetch Luna, he feels lost. The flat that has always been cosy at best feels huge, empty and clinical. Luna’s toys lay scattered over every available (and unavailable) surface, but she’s not here to play with them. The Sky+ box is glowing red showing something is recording, but he’s not watching anything. The fridge freezer whirs and creaks in the kitchen, but he’s not eating anything from inside it.

This silence is too much. He turns on the TV and flicks straight to MTV Rocks, notches it up and attempts to drown out his thoughts via the medium of MTV’s ‘Top 50 Classic Pop-Punk Anthems’ countdown.

He changes out of his wet, dusty clothes and into skinny jeans and an AC/DC t-shirt. He begins by whipping the sheets enthusiastically off his bed, bundling them immediately into the washing machine, hoping in vain to wash away the lingering traces of his stupid unreachable crush. If he washed clean the sheets where he’d dreamt of this boy and given himself life to this boy, maybe he’d be able to sleep a night peacefully.

He forcefully breaks down all the empty cereal boxes and frozen food boxes that have piled up on the countertop over the week. He takes his armful of collapsed cardboard out to the balcony. The term balcony is probably a bit generous. It’s more like a dumping ground for the recycling bins and Luna’s old pushchair. It’s set back in a sort of alcove between his flat and the one across the hall though, so it’s sheltered from the wind and the rain. He pauses after he’s deposited his cardboard; standing looking out over the bleary scenery.

_Sort your bloody act out, Harry._

He’s early to pick Luna up for the first time ever. He’d had to will himself to slow down as he walked from home to the preschool, at twenty five past four it was _too_ early. Thankfully, by twenty to five, it’s more acceptable. The ground is still soaked from the earlier flurry of bad weather, but the sky is clear again overhead and it’s still disgustingly sticky and hot. He regrets his skinny jeans as his body gets warmer and warmer as he goes.

His white Converse that he’s had since the dawn of time are more of a murky grey-ish beige at this point; he stares down at his feet while he waits at the main door to be buzzed in. He scans the room awkwardly with his eyes as he tentatively steps a foot inside the door. He smiles to the person on Reception and heads towards the door. He doesn’t realise how clammy his hands feel until he pushes open the door and notices the palm print he leaves behind.

“Stop being ridiculous,” He mutters to himself as the door clunks closed behind him.

“Who’s being ridiculous?” A voice asks behind him. He almost hits the roof at the unexpected interruption and it takes him a good few seconds to realise that the voice was female. He looks over his shoulder sheepishly to see Rachel, one of Luna’s teachers, behind him.

“Oh, uh, me. Sorry. Don’t worry.”

“Very well,” She chuckles as she walks by. “I’ll fetch Miss Luna for you.”

He nods gratefully even though she doesn’t see it. He clutches Luna’s fleece and backpack like it’s his life support machine as he waits for her to come out. A few other parents mill around and there are tiny people weaving in and out of adult legs everywhere.

He’s aware of someone coming in just behind him, and he doesn’t need to turn around to know who. The parents have filed out and there is just one person left behind. His heart lurches when he sees Louis throw him a cautious smile. “Hi again.”

“Hi.” He says curtly, not wanting to go down this avenue anymore. He wants to pull over, re-consult his map and take a different direction. If there is going to be a ‘conversation’, it needs to be longer than the time they have. There is only a very brief window before a certain 3ft 11in curly blonde haired girl will appear.

“I just wanted to say sorry. Again. I didn’t want to make things weird. I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable.”

He _had_ made things weird, is the problem, but Harry doesn’t feel Louis is entirely to blame. It strikes him how Louis says ‘sorry _that_ I made you uncomfortable’, not _if_. Like Harry feels angered by Louis, not fucking besotted.

“Daddy!” A shrill little voice interrupts them, Louis’ apology left unanswered in the air. “Louis!”

_God, that feels weird._

“Hi Luna love, y’alright?” Louis speaks first before Harry can catch up. Luna stands between them beaming.

“Louis, guess what?” Luna trills when she sees him. Traitor. “This my Daddy!”

“I know, so cool!” He smiles first at her then at Harry. “You off home now?”

“Yep!” Luna says proudly. “I’m gonna watch Lady and the Tramp.”

Ordinarily, Harry would groan and say ‘not again!’ but he just feels numb. His worlds are colliding and it feels weird, it should _not_ be happening.

“Oh, I bet that will be fun. Is that your favourite film ever?”

“Yeah, I seen it loadsa times!”

“I bet Daddy loves that!”

“Hmmm,” Harry offers weakly, finally finding his voice. “C’mon, Flower, we better get going.”

“Bye-bye Luna, high five for me?” Louis asks, crouching down and rocking on the balls of his feet as he holds a palm a loft for Luna to slap. “Ahh, nice one. Take care, bean. Bye.”

“Bye-bye Louis!” She chants long after he and Louis have shared an awkward stilted smile and gone their separate ways.

*

Gemma comes over on Saturday evening with an Indian, and Luna stays up late with them dipping torn up pieces of garlic and coriander naan into butter chicken sauce.

“What’s they called again?” Luna asks, looking curiously at Gemma.

“Naan bread.” Gemma tells her with a mouthful.

“Nan bread? Did Nanny make it for the takeaway people?” Luna asks, a mixture of delight and confusion painted into her eyes.

“No, love, Nanny didn’t make it, it’s just the name sounds the same.”

“Like the pretty rocks at the museum are called gems but you’re called Gems too.”

“Yeah, love,” Gemma nods, swallowing her food. “That’s exactly it, you clever pumpkin.”

“I’m not a pumpkin, _Auntie Gemma!”_ Luna shrieks.

“Yes you are, you’re all big and orange! And full of seeds!”

“I’m not, I’m not full of seeds am I, Daddy?”

“Yeah, I’m afraid so.” Harry says sagely, pretending to look inside Luna’s open mouth. “Yep, definitely full of seeds. She’s definitely a pumpkin not a little girl!”

“Auntie Gems loves pumpkin pie, can I gobble you all up?” Gemma adds.

“No, no, save me!” She wriggles off the sofa where she was sat between the two of them and into a crouched down ball on the floor. Gemma lifts up her feet and rests the gently on her back. “Arghhh!”

“My foot rest appears to be moving!” Gemma cries using a silly voice.

“Come and finish off your food now, Lune, please.” Harry has to be the one to break up the fun.

“Spoilsport.” Gemma mutters under her breath, shooting him a wide fake smile as he turns to scowl at her. Luna quickly returns to her plate of food, tearing chunks of bread apart and scooping up saucy rice to eat. It seems that when food is messy and the consumption is DIY, Luna becomes a bottomless pit.

*

Gemma’s boyfriend James arrives to pick her up at 11pm, and Luna, who had been so excited to stay up and see Uncle James, is passed out on the sofa next to Harry with pink cheeks and Harry’s fingers wrapped around her ankle.

“Tell the little mite I’ll see her next time?” James says quietly as Gemma holds out her hands for him to pull her up off the sofa. She grabs her handbag off the dinner table top and swings it over her shoulder.

He waves them off from his seat, Gemma insisting he not get up in case Luna wakes. Once Gemma and James are gone and all that’s left of their evening is the main menu screen of ‘Night at the Museum 2’ and empty dinner plates, he feels like all he has is right here in his hands. He wants a cuddle; _needs_ a cuddle. So, he slowly tucks his fingers under Luna’s arms and lifts her body off the sofa cushion. She is limp and deadweight and he huffs and heaves to get her from this awkward angle.

Her eyes flicker open monetarily as he moves her onto his lap, draping her heavy body across his and wrapping his arms tightly around her lower back. She rests her head on his shoulder and makes a few unconscious, snuffly noises before settling down once again.

“I wish I knew what to do, Luna Flower,” He whispers, not particularly _to_ her, but she _is_ the only other person in the room. He breathes in the scent of Johnson’s baby shampoo and closes his eyes. He tries not to think too much about _that_ memory of Louis, tries to keep his mind solely on the here and now, the last few encounters in the school. It’s not like there is anything going on, and as he’s told himself a million times: if this was an ordinary fling that had happened and then been forgotten about he wouldn’t be having this turmoil. And, if this was any other situation and the person in question wasn’t a member of the faculty at his daughter’s educational establishment, would he be right in there, using his charm and smile to his advantage?

There are so many ifs and buts and unanswered questions that Harry feels even more confused than he did before. Nothing feels like its making sense anymore, he’s sure he’d never put _this_ much thought into any of his previous romantic interests. Boys are bloody dangerous.

He shuffles off the sofa, using his legs to heave himself up as his arms are otherwise occupied. He settles Luna down in her bed, the little snuffler not even stirring. He pulls back her purple star print duvet with one hand and props her up with the other, finally settling her head onto her pillow and pulling the duvet back up to under her chin. He kisses her forehead and leaves her door ajar so the light from the hallway can filter in and soothe her should she wake in the night.

*

Sunday morning is pretty relaxed. He feels like he’s in Harry Potter as he gloats about Sunday, except it’s not the postman he’s escaping, it’s the school gates.

He decides he and Luna will spend the day together, just the two of them. One of his downstairs neighbours starts drilling at 10am, giving Harry all the encouragement he needs to suggest a day out. Luna whoops at the idea and asks if she can wear her Little Mermaid swimming costume.

“No, love, you only wear a cossie when we’re at the beach or the swimming pool.”

“Can we go to the swimming pool?” Luna asks. They’d been a few months ago with Gemma and James, and there’d been more than enough people there to supervise the petrified Luna, but he couldn’t do it on his own.

“No love, not just me and you, we need more people. Maybe next time.” He tries. Luna doesn’t like this and it takes ten minutes to placate her again, two threats of ‘if you’re going to be a brat we will just stay here’ and a two minute time-out in the hallway by the door before they’re back to picking outfits and folding up blankets to sit on later on.

This continued spell of lovely weather England has been having is impressive for June and as they head out just before 11am, the sky is clear save for one or two tiny clusters of fluffy white clouds filtering out to nothing by the time they arrive at the park.

It’s already fairly busy; euphoric toddlers, giddy pre-teens and everything in between shrieking and whooping as they charge about playing. Harry sets a blanket down on an unoccupied patch of grass near a cluster of trees. He puts their carrier bag of food from the Co-Op in the shade as if that will help that much, and gives Luna the go ahead to go into the park.

Harry sits cross legged rolling the football back and forth with his hands in front of him, watching Luna as she clambers up the climbing frame and whizzes down the slide; once, twice, thrice.

“Look, Daddy, I’m on top o’ the World!” She shouts to him as she stands on the bar at the top of the climbing frame waving.

“Careful, love!” He calls back, waving to her. With one final tap of the ball, he withdraws his other hand and it rolls off to the side, coming to a stop and rolling back towards him as it hits an incline in the grass. He runs his fingers through the grass; its bone dry and filled with daisies and buttercups.

Luna is pink-cheeked and glistening with sweat when he finally manages to get her to come over for a drink. He fights her wriggling as he re-applies her sun cream and get her to drink a Fruit Shoot. Funnily enough, the only part of the food bag she is interested in eating is the chocolate. He manages to get her to forget about the chocolate for now and agree to eat her sandwich after two more goes on the slide. She comes after four goes and Harry considers it at least a _half_ win.

Luna takes apart her sandwich, scrapes out the chicken mayo filling and scoops it back up again with her bread like she had done with her Indian takeaway the night before. Harry rolls his eyes fondly; as long as she’s eating he doesn’t mind. He has to remind her to drink, and she starts her second bottle of juice reluctantly.

She eats her Wotsits and her chocolate bar much more readily than her sandwich, strangely enough. After they’ve finally finished, he ties all the wrappers and packaging up in the carrier bag and sends Luna the six steps over to his right to the bin to get rid of it.

He takes his eye off her for three seconds, if that, while he gathers her cardigan and his phone she’d left in the grass nearby. When he turns around she’s stood by the rubbish bin peering up at a man in shorts. He can hear her chatter but his ears fill with the roar of his own blood and he’s on his feet dashing over before he can focus. Luna turns back to him with a massive grin on her face and Harry then realises who it is she’s talking to.

“Hello again!” Louis, bloody Louis again, says brightly. He slides his Aviators off his nose and smiles back at Luna, poking his tongue out at her. “Sorry to show up yet again. What a lovely day, eh? Perfect weather for the park!”

“Yeah…” Harry says dumbly. He has a million questions but his brain is still fixated on the fact that he’s here. So much for avoiding this.

“I only sees you at preschool normally!” Luna says, still staring at him in awe like she’s so amazed to see him outside of the school setting.

“I know, how weird is this?” Louis cries theatrically. “I’m ‘ere with my sisters! They’re twins, see over there?”

Luna, and in turn Harry, follow Louis’ pointing finger over to a bench on the other side of the adventure playground where two identical twin girls with long straight brown hair are sitting eating Fab ice lollies.

“What’s a twins?” Luna asks, frowning.

“Twins means that my two sister, Daisy and Phoebe, look exactly like each other. Sometimes even my mummy can’t tell them apart!”

“Does they live with you? I live with my Daddy!”

Louis laughs. “No, I live all by myself.”

“Don’t you have a wife?” Luna asks, wide eyed and innocent.

“Luna!” Harry hears himself interject, for some reason.

“No, sweetheart. It’s just me.”

“You live by yourself?” Louis nods. “That must be lonely. I live with Daddy so it’s never lonely!”

“You lucky girl! I bet it’s good fun living with Daddy!”

Luna nods widely and Harry feels equal parts horrified and endeared. “Anyway, Luna, let’s let Louis get back to his…. his sisters. C’mon, babe.” Harry cuts, in placing a desperate hand on Luna’s shoulder, tightening his grip slightly when she tries to wiggle away.

“It’s alright, I just bought them ice creams so they’re chuffed. Bought me five minutes peace, at least.” Louis says, and _damn him._

“Oh, well, anyway…” Harry says awkwardly. This is not going the way he had hoped. He almost feels angry at how the lovely day out he had planned has been sullied by this chance encounter. “We’re just… here so.”

He waves vaguely to their picnic spot behind him, Louis nodding appreciatively. “Well, I’ll probably see you around then. Bye Luna, be good.”

“I will!” She chimes angelically, before turning back to Harry. “Can I go back on the park, Daddy? Will you push me on a swings?”

“Yeah, alright.” Harry agrees. Normally, pushing Luna on the swings hurts his back and goes on for _far_ too long but today it’s the perfect excuse to get away. Luna cheers _‘yaaaay’_ and scurries off. Harry chances a quick look at Louis, who smiles warmly at the retreating Luna before looking up and meeting his eye. His smile dims but doesn’t fade away completely.

“I’ll see you, then.”

Harry nods. “Hmmm.” Louis turns and Harry watches him walk back towards the twins and a platinum haired girl.

*

“Higher Daddy!” Luna demands as she flails through the air in the toddler swing, legs extending and tucking in at exactly the right moments. Her hair plumps wildly with each come down.

“I can’t push you much higher, Lune, you’ll be doing flips over the top of the swing!”

“Yeah, do that!” Luna shrieks, taking her hands off the metal chaining to clap.

“No, Lune, _hold on!”_ He instructs, grabbing her ankle to warn her.

After sufficient swinging time, he gets her out and she goes back to flitting between the slide and the balance beams, calling for him to watch her every few seconds. He settles back down on the blanket and looks back at the pictures he’d taken when she was at the top of the spider’s web climbing frame.

He looks up every few minutes to check on Luna; she’s fine scurrying about climbing and jumping and running. When he looks up the next time, Louis is standing over him looking tentative.

“Every time I turn around you’re there.” He says, not meaning it to come out sounding as rude as it did. Louis might tense up a bit but Harry doesn’t look. _Can’t_ look.

“Sorry.” He says meekly. He continues to stand on ceremony, his arms crossed over his chest and fiddling with his short sleeve.

“Sit down if you want,” Harry gestures imprecisely. “You’ll be more comfy.”

“Thanks,” Louis sits on the very precipice of the blanket between the fabric and the grass. He sits cross-legged too, a respectable amount of distance between the two of them. It’s silent for a few moments between them, until Louis finally speaks again. “I’m glad I saw you. Haven’t had a real chance to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Harry says bluntly. He’s intent on keeping up his ‘avoidance’ charade, though the way his heart is beating furiously in his chest kind of betrays his strived-for nonchalance.

“I know, I just… no hard feelings, huh?”

They pause for a second and then Harry realises the incredible pun and he dissolves. “Sorry! ‘Hard feelings’! I had to, I’m so sorry!”

“Jesus wept!” Louis mutters as he laughs too. “That was the _worst_ thing I’ve _ever_ heard!”

After that, the ice is sufficiently broken.

“I’m sorry to keep on you like this, I just, I just wanted to make sure you knew I was sorry. I didn’t mean to… do what I did. If I’d have known-”

“There’s no way you could have known, so don’t worry.”

“I don’t normally make a habit of doing that kinda thing in clubs, just so you know, in case you were worried about my skills as a teacher.”

“Oh!” Oh. That thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. “No, don’t worry, I wasn’t thinking that.”

“Good. I love my job, so…” Louis trails off, and Harry feels sick. That’s what Louis had been worried about: his reputation if Harry decided to shop him in after their rendezvous. He probably wasn’t interested at all, just worried about his own back.

“Yeah, well no harm done so don’t worry.”

“You’ve got a lovely daughter. She’s a real cracker.”

“Thanks.” Harry says, trying to keep calm. “I try to give her the best life I can.”

“I can see.” Louis seems so serious. If all he wanted was reassurance that his job was safe, he’s got it. He can go now before Harry’s heart implodes on itself. “Your girlfriend must be…”

“No, no I don’t have a girlfriend!” Harry thought that was implied given the way they met. “It’s just me and Luna.”

“Oh, than- that’s a relief.” Louis says, breathing out heavily and then realising what he’d said. “I mean, from what Luna said and just from _you_ in general I thought you might have someone that just didn’t live with you.”

“Don’t worry, you weren’t an accessory to adultery.”

“Good.” He says before pausing again. “Look, would you… I mean, would you be interested in maybe going for a drink sometime? Try things properly.”

“Um, God no, what?” Harry speaks before his brain has had a chance to vet him, and the look on Louis’ face is excruciating. “No, sorry I didn’t mean no, I just meant…”

“Sorry, please, please forget I said anything.” Louis goes to get up but Harry stops him.

“Louis, wait. I’m sorry, I’m awful with words. I didn’t mean a flat out no. I’m sorry. I just…” Harry pauses. There are two stumbling blocks in the way of his semi-infatuation with Louis; his profession in relation to Luna, and the fact that he is a guy and this is new territory for Harry. In the end, the latter comes up first.

“I haven’t… with a guy, before.”

“Oh right.” Louis says abruptly, his face only slightly quizzical. God, Harry wasn’t ready for this today. “But we…”

“I know,” Harry sighs, almost painfully. “That was… that was a first.”

“Wow!” Louis says on a ragged out breath. “I don’t know if I should be honoured or not?”

Harry smiles weakly, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Yeah, so, there’s that.”

“I guessed you were at least bi, or pan maybe? Gay… I don’t know?”

Harry doesn’t know how to feel about most of those words. “I don’t even know myself. Before that night I was pretty much exclusively just into girls. Obviously.” He gestures to Luna playing, who catches his eye and waves. He waves back and hopes she doesn’t come over. She doesn’t.

“Right…” Louis nods, plucking a daisy out of the nearby grass and spinning it between his thumb and forefinger.

“I don’t mean to sound like a dick, I’m just so flippin’ confused right now.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry for making it worse.”

“It’s not your fault.” Harry says quietly, looking back down at the blanket.

“I better get back to the girls,” Louis stands up and takes a strawberry Chupa Chup lolly out of his pocket. “Oh, here, have this.”

“My mum told me not to take sweets from strangers.” Harry manages a soft joke.

“Good thing I’m not a stranger then.” Louis says, tossing the lollipop into Harry’s lap and heading off.

He notices something else flutter down with the lolly, and assuming it was just a bit of random rubbish from Louis’ pocket, he picks it up. When he unravels it, his heart skips a beat and he chuckles to himself. “That little…” He says under his breath as he turns the ripped off corner of a box of Kellogg’s cereal bars over in his fingers and sees eleven numbers written in the space in blue pen.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please comment/kudos if you liked, it'd mean the world to me!
> 
> ETA - 24/8/16 and 20/10/16 - I took out the bits about Lottie having a daughter and swapped the bits at the park for Phoebe and Daisy. Well spotted ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your support so far, I hope you enjoy this update!

 

Feeling bashful, Harry puts the corner of cardboard safely in his wallet behind his photo of baby Luna and scrambles to his feet. With a burst of life inside him he bounds over to Luna with the football and donks her on the head with it.

“C’mon Lunatic, let’s play keepie-uppies.” He says. She immediately scrambles down from the climbing frame, chattering in excitement.

Harry manages to make it about thirty seconds before he has to discreetly look over his shoulder to see if Louis is still there. Turns out, he's not. He doesn't mind though. He bounces the ball off his knee three times before rolling it across the grass to Luna. She picks it up and drops it on the top of her foot, having not quite mastered the art of keepie-uppies yet.

"Like this, babe." Harry takes the ball and holds it at chest height. Showing her how to stand with one leg poised in the air, he drops it gently onto her leg and prompts her to kick up against it. It’s not the football she kicks but his own balls.

He manages to smile stiffly through it; Luna completely unaware of the trauma she’d caused. Keepie-uppies is quickly abandoned, and probably for the best. She is happy to go back to the climbing frame and the swings, Harry pitching up on a bench to watch.

However, it's no mean feat getting Luna _away_ from the park; he has to trick her into climbing the monkey bars on his shoulders and then once they get to the end, instead of letting her down he begins heading towards the path that will lead them home. Once she realises what he has done to _betray_ her, she hammers her heels against his chest and shrieks. Harry has to keep going, though - he’s been more embarrassed than this in his tenure as a father so far. He is sweating profusely and his shoulders and back ache like mad as he lumbers across the grass trying to avoid pot holes, but he doesn’t relent.

"Luna, shush babe, we're going home and that's that."

"No, I was still playing!" Luna argues, though she's given up kicking his chest, thankfully, and started threading her fingers through his hair. Her fingers feel sticky the way the odd individual hair gets caught and twinges sharply from his scalp.

"Stop it, you're pulling me hair!" He hisses, tightening his grip around her ankle ever so slightly to warn her, but to no avail. "Luna, cut it out right now."

"You're being _horrible!"_ She whines, laying both her palms flat on his head and dragging them down so his hair is trapped underneath.

"Right!" He stops, throws down her backpack resting in the crook of his elbow and hunches over, shucking her off him and catching her under the arms as she rolls off his shoulders. She's scampering ahead away from him the second her canvas shoes hit the pavement. He goes to reach out for her to no avail. "No DVD's tonight!"

"Daddy!" She stops in her tracks and flounces her arms. Again, she says, "Stop being so _horrible!"_

"I'm not being 'horrible', Luna, I'm telling you if you don't stop with this bloody attitude, you're DVD's are going away for the night." He _shouldn't_ say 'bloody' to her, he _knows_ that. "C'mon, stop dawdling!"

Luna stays rooted to the spot as Harry passes her by; he heads up the path about halfway then turns back to look at her. She hasn't moved, even though the ignore tactic is usually fool proof. "Fine, I’ll see you back at the flat then. Can you remember how to get there?"

He rolls his eyes and smiles triumphantly to himself as he hears her squeal and little footsteps come thudding up behind him. "Daddy!" she shouts indignantly. "You _forgot_ me!"

"Did I?" Harry asks in mock-shock. "I'm sorry; I don't wait for naughty girls, though."

"I’m not naughty!" Luna insists, and Harry raises his eyebrows with a scoff. "I’m gonna tell Nanny you said a swear!”

“Fine, do it.” Harry challenges, abandoning all hope of getting this thing back on track.

“Do I get my DVD's tonight?" Luna asks, flitting back to her _main_ concern quickly.

"No," Harry says though it isn’t with much conviction. She gives him that look and drapes her arm around his leg as they walk together and it's so hard to keep on track. She proceeds to wail. "I said no, Luna, that's that."

Sometimes, Harry feels like he's a broken record stuck on a loop with Luna, always repeating himself and going over the same point a million times.

She huffs and she puffs and she does protest perhaps too much. Even when they get home and when they’ve been home for an hour and then when it's time for bed and she still hasn't been allowed to watch Lady and the Tramp or Beauty and the Beast _or_ 101 Dalmatians, she doesn't give in. She kicks back her covers every time he tries to tuck her in, narrowing her eyes and pouting with an annoyed little _harrumph_. "Lune, you can sleep without covers if you like, I'll bet you get cold before you fall asleep."

She chooses to ignore him, so he gathers the duvet up in his arms and makes for the door. Predictably, she squeals and begs him not to.

“Luna, you’ve had a lovely day out, don’t let yourself down now, eh?” He tries to reason with her, knowing full well trying to reason with an overtired, devilish four year old is futile and a thankless task.

“Wanna! Go! Back! Park!” She whines, punctuating each word with a hammering of her fists into the mattress beside her.

“No, Luna, it’s bedtime now.”

“But it’s not dark out yet!”

“Doesn’t matter,” Harry says firmly. She’s never noticed a change in the evening light levels during summer before. “It’s bedtime. It’s been bedtime since you were two.”

“I’m not two, I’m four!”

“Really? But you’re acting like a _baby_ right now!”

“I’m not, shut up.” She says, staring him down coolly and confidently.

“Luna Rose-Anne, if I hear you say that _once_ more you’ll have no sweets for a whole week!”

With a huff and an indignant wail, Harry has no choice but to wrestle Luna into bed and leave her to whine and moan. She shrieks in disbelief that he _actually_ closed the door on her, and yells for him to come back for a solid ten minutes. Then it goes quiet and five minutes later Harry edges the door open slowly and she’s out like a light.

*

Harry flops down on the sofa, batting an unbothered hand in the direction of the mess on the kitchen table and blanking out the turmoil he knows the kitchen to be in. A soggy towel and Luna’s clothes from the day are still in a pile on the bathroom floor, and he probably should have opened a window in his bedroom to get some air flowing a good two hours ago, but he hadn't and he'll pay for that later. He gets his phone out the pocket of his shorts; the object bumping against his thigh every time he'd moved had been driving him crazy all evening.

He has to pinch himself. He stares at his phone contacts screen just making sure he hadn't imagined everything. He'd added Louis' number to his phone carefully; triple checking each digit and adding a sunshine emoji next to Louis' name, because why not? That's what had felt right. He wasn't sure what the etiquette was now; how long should wait to text? What should he say? Should he introduce himself formally or assume that Louis would only have one guess when it came to unsaved numbers texting his phone.

The only thought he _should_ be having is 'this will not end well' but his better judgement is in a melted puddle on the grass at the park where it had promptly died after Louis had slipped him his phone number.

Suddenly, he feels chilly despite how scorching it’s been all week – all bloody month, really. Must be the nerves, he thinks, though he screws his eyes tight shut and shakes his head violently as if trying to remove all those thoughts. There’s _nothing_ to _be_ nervous about because there’s _nothing_ going on and nothing is _going_ to go on.

He tries a few different approaches: casual, friendly, funny. He tries to slip in a joke but decides that comes off too flirty, so he scrubs that message away too. He starts with ‘Hi it’s Harry from’ and then he’s got nothing. Harry from the park? Harry from the preschool? Harry from the club toilet?

Eventually, by the time Harry has composed and rewritten his initial message six times, its quarter to eleven at night.

_'Hi, it's Harry, from before. Thanks for your number, im sorry to say I almost didn’t see it :('_

He’d agonised over adding an emoji face or maybe even an ‘x’, or indeed neither at all for almost ten minutes before deciding on the sad face. He almost brains himself unconscious when he reads Louis' reply. He hadn't put two and two together and thought that maybe with Louis being in the education field and it being Sunday evening that perhaps he was trying to get an early night. After apologising profusely in his follow up text, he surges forward to the edge of the sofa and nervously awaits another reply. For someone who had claimed to be trying to sleep, he is quick off the mark with his responses.

_'It’s okay, I can probably stay up a bit longer. PS – It was starting to worry me that you wouldn’t text me… :('_

Harry sinks back all the way into the sofa until he’s basically sitting on his lower back and brings his legs up to tuck his knees under his chin. His breathing is a little restricted and his back muscles scream at him in pain, but he can’t hear them; this is all going downhill rather quickly and rather spectacularly.

They text until gone half past midnight; Louis’ last message at 00:38 doesn’t contain a goodbye, so Harry assumes he’s fallen asleep on him, and he spends a good fifteen minutes imagining Louis trying to stay awake but nodding off on him, phone still in hand.

*

Monday morning rolls around and the rigmarole of the morning routine doesn’t feel quite as bad this morning. Luna has woken back to her normal self, thank God, so he has a smidge more patience with her as she eats her breakfast at a snail’s pace. Just generally, everything feels like it takes a little less effort. They don’t see Louis in the mornings but that’s normal and Harry isn’t surprised. Disappointed, maybe, but not surprised. He does wonder where Louis is in the mornings, but he isn’t about to make an enquiry.

Luna trots off into her class with a brief wave, her embroidered denim Sketchers lighting up with every step. Harry watches her longingly, wishing they could do Sunday over again. Aside from the tiredness induced mini-meltdown at the end of the evening, it was a good day.

He’s surprised to find his phone vibrating against his leg in his pocket and for a moment he almost blacks out with sheer anticipation. But, when he looks at the display, it’s Gemma.

“Big sister, hello.”

“Hi, little brother! You alright?” She asks, bright and bubbly down the phone. Harry, despite the good mood he is in, would still much rather be in bed and he winces at her joviality as he agrees that _yes, he is fine_ , and asks _what do you want?_

“Ha! Charming! Look, I wanna take Luna to the farm tonight. Late opening has started and there’s two new ponies just arrived and the sheep have just been sheared. James has organised a go around on the tractor for her, too. Is that okay?”

Ah yes, James the Farmer. Harry in his infinite fifteen year old wisdom had found it hilarious that Gemma’s new boyfriend worked on a farm. Now, at 22 (and a half, almost) years of age, he still chuckles a bit to himself whenever he thinks about it.

“Yeah, that’s fine. What time you picking her up?” He asks as he trudges up the path towards the corner shop layby where the van will pick him up. “Okay, fine. I’ll have her ready.”

*

Luna is beside herself with excitement when he tells her she’s going to Uncle James’ farm. She’s a little put out that Harry isn’t coming too, but as soon as Gemma pulls up in her VW Golf, all is forgotten. He manages to give her a chaste kiss before she’s bolting it out the front door onto the communal landing, standing on the top step shouting “come on Auntie Gem-ma!”

Luna loves Gemma’s car almost as much as she loves Gemma. Her car stereo has a voice recording feature and even at four years of age Luna knows how to make her own recordings and get how to get _her_ songs to play.

The silence is deafening once Luna has gone, the banging of the main door downstairs echoing throughout the place for a few seconds. He stands against his own front door, contemplative in his pause. He thinks about nothing in particular as he stares at a cobweb in the corner of the stairwell, rolling the ball of his left foot over the cold concrete.

The sound of his across the hall neighbours door opening jolts him back into life. He mumbles a quick, embarrassed hello before scuttling back inside. On the other side of the door, his first thought is to grab his phone. He hadn’t heard anything from Louis since last night, or early this morning as it were.

He hasn’t wanted to make a big deal out of checking his phone; picking the unloved thing up and mindlessly checking Facebook and Snapchat and Instagram even though he couldn’t care less about what random celebrities and ex-friends from school are doing. He opens and closes his messages before leaving his phone on the kitchen counter and stalking through to his bedroom.

Out of sight, out of mind.

So much for out of sight out of mind. Harry manages a fitful ten minutes on his bed ‘relaxing’ before he hauls himself off his bed with an irritated sigh and into the kitchen. He manages to stall himself long enough to take the milk from the fridge and glug down a mouthful before he’s picking his phone back up.

_’Hi, how are you?’_

_Crap,_ he curses himself as the message comes up with a tick for delivered. He is the furthest from playing it cool that he could ever possibly be, and his better judgement still hasn’t reappeared since he lost it yesterday. His breathing is uncoordinated as Louis replies within a minute.

_‘Stressed! Just got home now, the build-up to end of the school yr always kills me x’_

_‘Anything I can do to help?’_

Harry’s not sure where he’s going with this. This feels so different to anything he’s ever done before.

_‘Hot bath, lots of choccie and an ear for me to bend with my whinging? I don’t ask for much ha x’_

_‘I can lend you my ear to bend. The other 2 im no good for, sorry x’_

Harry sends his first message with an added ‘x’ on the end, though the last couple of Louis’ exchanges have had the flirty appendage. He’s not sure if it’s customary to feel this urgent towards someone you’ve technically spent about 20 minutes in the company of, but all Harry knows is everything he’d told himself _not_ to do, not to feel, is happening and it’s scary.

The semantics of gender out of the way, there’s nothing about this that feels any different to pursuing a girl. No, Harry’s not sure that the fact Louis is a boy is even an issue anymore. His thoughts are laced with memories of a strong defined jaw speckled with golden stubble, a voice that’s deeper than those he is used to hearing but lilted and jovial in its delivery and pitch.

In a few exchanges Harry tells Louis Luna is out with his sister and he learns Louis has zero inclination to move tonight, and that Harry has no clue what to make for tea. He decides to be brave and ask Louis why he is so stressed.

_‘I wouldn’t want to bore you. Teacher stuff x’_

And there it is. The horrible reminder of who Louis is and how their… _whatever_ it is you’d call it that they’re dabbling in is highly inappropriate and risky. Harry had been killing himself blocking that part from his memory, and whether it’s fortunate or unfortunate for him, his curiosity is winning against his self-restraint.

_‘I don’t mind you know x’_

Harry is still screaming internally. It takes a while for his nerves to dissipate, by which stage they’re rising up again because Louis hasn’t text back. It’s been almost fifteen minutes of pause after a good solid back-and-forth of about twenty messages. Harry is just about to start thinking up obscene sleepover-esque fantasies when his phone vibrates again. Harry pounces on his phone like it’s about to run away from him and his heart stops when he sees it’s a call not a text. God, this is a lot for 6.30pm on a Monday evening in June.

“Hello?” He says tentatively, the sound of his voice filling his kitchen and sounding too harsh, too brash.

“Hiya!” Louis’ voice sounds down the line. “Sorry, I just thought all that texting was a bit laborious. Hope you don’t mind?”

“Uh, no, no not at all.” Harry‘s face is permanently twisted into a cringing, self-loathing grimace.

“I’m just in the bath, sorry if it gets a bit splashy.”

_Oh Jesus Christ._ “Oh, that’s alright.”

“Good,” Louis says, pausing but Harry can’t think of anything to add. Thankfully, Louis soldiers on. “Cor, I can’t believe it’s only Monday, it feels like at least Thursday, I’m knackered!”

And really, thank God Louis is able to carry a conversation because Harry certainly can’t get past fractured, monosyllabic utterings. “Yeah… Monday’s…crap.”

“You alright, H?” Louis asks, and wow he already has a nickname. “Are you busy, d’you want me to let you go?”

“No, sorry it’s okay I was just… getting something out the fridge.” Harry looks around the room and the big white beast covered in scribbled drawings and fridge magnets is the first thing he sees. “Not long until the holidays, right?”

“God, I bet you’re dreading them in equal measure that I’m looking forward to them!” Louis laughs, and there is another gentle reminder, piss off. “I know most parents loathe the summer ‘olidays.”

“Yeah, it does make life a bit difficult.” Harry agrees, still not used to hearing himself referred to as a ‘parent’ after all this time. Dad is one thing, but ‘parent’ sounds so grown up. Responsible.

“I’m sorry,” Louis says. “On behalf of all teachers everywhere.”

“No you’re not.” Harry says with a gentle chuckle on ‘not’. Louis’ own barking chortle down the phone loosens him a bit. Louis agrees that he isn’t sorry, and that his six weeks summer holiday (minus the last week where he has to start thinking about the curriculum again) is the most precious thing in his life. Harry begins to relax and has some _very_ unpure thoughts about bubbles sliding over cambers of tanned skin as Louis puts him on loud speaker and dips his entire body under the water to soak his hair.

He _doesn’t_ think about how warm Louis’ skin would be after sitting in a bath for half an hour. He _doesn’t_ think about how the bubbles will slip down the curve of his bum as he stands, down the backs of his thighs to his ankles and then melt on the floor before he towels off.

A text message from Gemma saying they’re ten minutes from leaving comes through during their phone call, and Harry has to make his excuses.

“Oh, my Gemma, I mean my sister, Gemma, just text me. Luna’s on her way home soon.”

“Alright, no worries. And Harry?”

“What?” Harry almost whispers.

“It was nice talking to you again.”

“You too.”

“See you soon?”

“Uh, yeah. See you.” _At the preschool,_ Harry feels like he should be clarifying but he just doesn’t.

*

Luna is ecstatic when Gemma drops her off.

“Them tractor wheels were _this_ high off the ground!” She enthuses, holding both her hands as high above her head as she can, whilst on tiptoes. “ _And!_ Uncle James got us two goes! None of them others got to go two times.”

“Twice, sweetie.” Gemma reminds Luna, who is too excited to care.

“I got to see the sheepies too, they’d just had haircuts Daddy!” She giggles like it’s the funnies thing she’d ever seen. “Should we get haircuts like the sheepies?”

“Maybe in the summer holidays, love.” Harry says, though taking a preschool aged child to the hairdressers is unbearable, so Harry hopes she forgets about that idea quickly.

"Uncle James got the tractor just for me and Auntie Gems!" Luna says again, and Harry and Gemma both smile fondly at her.

"She's eaten: sausages, beans and chips." Gemma says effortlessly, and Harry's sure he can hear the gloating dripping from every word. He’d tell her she was a cow if Luna wasn't in earshot.

"Okay, great. Thank you." He says instead, though it pains him. Cool Auntie Gems will always be Luna's favourite person, he thinks. He wonders if it would have been that way in another realm…

"Right, must get back, to have my _own_ tea!" Gemma says, grabbing Luna by the waist and pulling her in for a cuddle. "Bye bye, Miss Luna Flower."

"Bye Gem-Gem!"

"What do you say to Auntie Gems, Lune?"

"Tha-aa-nk you!" Luna sing-songs like butter wouldn't melt.

They wave Gemma off from the window; Luna remaining in the spot long after Gemma has sped off.

"Do you want anything else to eat, Flower? Bed time soon."

Luna claims she doesn't, but when he chucks some rashers in the pan and some bread in the toaster she decides she could probably manage a round of jam on toast. It’s half an hour past bedtime before she is in bed, but oh well.

*

Over the course of the week, things go from strength to strength, which is bad news for Harry’s non-existent self-restraint. On Wednesday, Harry learns that his lunch hour overlaps with Louis’ by half an hour, and there is yet more ferocious texting, seeing how much they can squeeze in to one half hour.

On Thursday, he and Luna go for tea at his mum’s house and its lasagne, Harry’s favourite. Luna; not so much. It’s arduous trying to get her to eat anything after the cheesy, crunchy top layer. His mum softly suggests that maybe they should let her be, and Harry insists that she needs to eat something else she will go to bed hungry, and Luna starts crying at the table when Harry’s fist bangs onto the surface in frustration.

“Harry!” Anne says curtly.

“Luna, c’mon love, _eat!”_ Harry holds the fork to her mouth but she isn’t budging.

“No.” She manages to mumble through pursed lips.

“Come on!”

“No!”

“Harry!”

“Mum, please!” He ends up snapping, though instantly regrets it. “I’m sorry but I’m trying to deal with this and she’s just flat out ignoring me ‘cause she knows she’ll get what she wants if she refuses to eat!”

“Don’t stress yourself out love, she’s already won!” Anne says. “Calm yourself down, you won’t get anywhere with that hump on.”

“Do you want Nanny to try?” He says to Luna, dropping the loaded fork onto the plate with a clatter. Both he and his mum’s plates are empty. Luna nods, still tight-lipped, and Harry slides the plate towards his mum. “Please?”

Luna eats six sizable mouthfuls of lasagne for Anne, the little bugger. _Bloody typical_ , Harry thinks to himself as he watches her smile through a mouthful, and he could swing for her, he really could.

He spends ten minutes upstairs on the toilet recuperating and playing games on his phone before his mum calls up the stairs asking if he's fallen in the toilet bowl or if he needs any special 'help'.

He rolls his eyes at her standing at the foot of the stairs grinning as he comes out of the bathroom.

"Harry, wait love, while she's distracted," She says, referring to Luna who is at the kitchen table enjoying ice cream with toffee sauce and chocolate sugar strands, according to her commentary. "What's the plan for Little Miss' birthday?"

"I don’t know," Harry admits, balancing between one step and the next. "I hadn't thought yet. Tea party here?"

"Is that what you want?"

"I guess, yeah." Harry shrugs noncommittally. It's still two months or so away now, he hadn't thought about it at all. “It’s slap bang in the middle of her first week at big school, mum."

“I know, love.” Anne sympathises. Harry has made it abundantly clear on several occasions that he is _dreading_ Luna making the move to school. “It’ll be alright though. A little tea party on the Saturday will be lovely for her, a double celebration.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Harry sighs unconvincingly. Luckily, his mum doesn’t push him to talk about it any longer, just gives him a comforting rub on the arm and signals for him to re-join them at the dinner table.

He takes a moment to feel like a kid again as his mum presents him with his own bowl of ice cream with chocolate and toffee sauces. “My big baby and my littlest baby.” His mum says, echoing his own sentiments, and she smiles between him and Luna.

“I’m not a baby it’s my birthday on Sep-tember the eighth!” Luna says proudly, sticky ice cream all around her mouth and in her hair. “I gonna be five! When I’m ten I can have a birthday party at Laserquest, did you know that Nanny? Daddy said so, didn’t you Daddy?”

“Yes, when you’re ten. Maybe eleven if you don’t lemme have a kiss _right_ now!” Harry says, leaning in to her with his lips pressed into a full on pout. She giggles as she kisses him; it’s sticky and chocolatey but it’s lovely.

*

Luna leaves his mums with a bag of sweets and a promise to go straight to sleep when Daddy says. Harry is sceptical, but when it comes to it, she doesn't let him down.

"Night-night flower, love you." He says softly, tweaking her ear and tapping the end of her nose, which crinkles in reaction.

"Love you too, Daddy." She snuggles her cheek into her pillow and Harry's heart, for the ten thousandth time in four years and ten months, bursts into bloom.

He pulls her door to, awaits the kettle boiling and then launches himself into the corner of the sofa, stretching his legs out across the three cushions and crossing his feet at the ankles. He notes a stripe of dried cement on his ankle now that he's changed into his jogger shorts. Examining his hands, his fingertips are bone dry and tough and every single finger has a cut on it in some form. The knuckle of his middle finger on his left hand is angry and red and hopelessly trying to heal itself. With a heavy sigh, he drops his head rather forcefully down onto the arm of the sofa and closes his eyes. The to and fro of cars outside the open window is relaxing, and the blinding sun is just at the angle through his window where he has to throw an arm over his eyes to shield them even though they're closed.

The next thing Harry knows, it's half past ten.

"Shit..." He mumbles, leaping up off the sofa in a daze before crashing back down from wobbly, unadjusted legs. He makes an ungodly strangled noise as he stretches his back to the left and then the right to unlock it. Grabbing his phone instinctively for the time, he sees he'd missed a message just three minutes ago. Maybe that's what woke him.

He types out a bleary eyed reply to Louis' polite message and blinks away the confusion in his eyes to double check spelling, grammar etc. before sending. Despite the lasagne he'd had earlier, his tummy rumbles as he stands up again, groaning through a head rush. The room wobbles and his entire body feels filled with helium until the motion passes and everything clears up again. He heads straight to his bed via the kitchen, grabbing a bag of crisps. It doesn't even occur to him that, ordinarily, Louis would be sleeping right now. He is quick to text back, so quick in fact that Harry doesn't even bother going off his messages to any other application because it’s inevitable that the second he does, Louis will reply again. And Harry’s heart does little jumping jacks with each bloody message. They message back and forth until there is a brief pause and then...

_’I can’t stop thinking about that night x’_

Oh God… this is it. Sink or swim. Make or break. Deal or no deal? No, that one doesn’t really work.

_‘Me too x’_

He replies before anything inside him can talk him out of it. He holds his breath and tries to deny to himself he’s waiting, _aching_ for a reply.

Just like before, within a moment or two, his phone gives off a vibrate and then lights up 'Incoming call'

"Hey," He answers, his casual greeting a cross between a whisper and a giggle.

"Hi, uh, sorry I know it’s late and you probably can't talk but..."

"It's fine. I can be quiet when I need to be." Harry decides to say, toeing the line between innuendo and honesty.

Louis’ nasally snort on the other end of the line tells Harry he'd taken it as more the former than the latter. "I’m sure."

"Y’know what I mean!"

"Yeah, sorry. I’m sorry for lowering the tone." Louis sounds positively elated.

"Hmm, well, I _guess_ it's okay."

"Good." Louis says, and there’s a rustle down the line like he's turning in bed. "So, uh, I didn’t just phone you to be mildly insulted."

"No?"

"Nope."

"What did you phone me for ‘en?"

"Wanted to ask you somethin'."

"Really? What would that be then? Is it a multiple choice question?"

"I hope not!" Louis laughs softly, the 'you weirdo' part going unsaid. “This Saturday, can you get a babysitter? Let me take you out?”

Harry can’t. Without sounding like a twat, he knows people and he’s not ready for questions from anyone who happens to see him out and about with Louis. The follow up questions would be difficult.

‘I... I don't know." Harry manages. "I can't... that, just yet. Right now."

"I want to see you again. Properly." Louis doesn’t seem too deterred, which Harry _is_ glad about.

"So do I," Harry says, almost inaudibly. "Want to see you, I mean."

"I knew what you meant." Louis says. He is monotone and Harry suddenly feels like he might have ruined things. The ridiculousness of that; dumped before he even has the chance to turn a date down. Thankfully, after a momentary pause, Louis speaks again. "Could I invite you over to mine ‘en?"

Harry considers this. He can’t _really_ say no.

"Okay." Harry says in a voice that even he doesn't recognise as his own.

"Wow, once more with feeling, please!"

"Sorry. Yes, I’d like to come over. To yours."

"Brilliant!"

Louis texts him an address on the other side of town and Harry’s first thought immediately is how much will a taxi cost, because he _won't_ be arriving on the bus. What the hell is he doing? What should he wear? He hasn't even checked his mum will have Luna. He's bloody forgotten all about Luna, he told himself he _wouldn't_ go down this road with Louis. The torment of all these many unanswered questions eats away at him as he falls asleep still dressed, calculating how many minutes until Saturday evening.

*

Harry has a facade to maintain on Saturday. He and Luna spend the day together; he takes her to the cinema to see The Secret Life of Pets _and_ treats her to popcorn and a KFC afterwards. He sips his Pepsi through a straw so quickly it gives him brain freeze and his sinuses ache as it blossoms and blooms then eventually starts to dissolve. _Serves you right for lying to your mother and daughter, all in the name of a sordid love affair,_ his internal voice chides him coolly. Clearly, they are not friends today. No matter how many times he tries to tell himself that there is _technically_ nothing wrong with anything he might (secretly hope to) do with Louis, his inner self wins out and by the time it gets to it, he's a nervous wreck. He hasn't eaten since a few grabbed handfuls of salty popcorn in the cinema at about 1pm and its now approaching 8pm.

With Luna dropped off and his mum under the impression he's just off for a standard night on the tiles with the lads, he rattles his way back to his flat, breathing heavy and heart hammering too fast and too hard in his chest. His chest feels so unnaturally expanded that he’s surprised his shirt even fits over his shoulders and buttons up. He spends a few moments imagining himself as the Incredible Hulk. A five-foot-eleven, sexually confused Incredible Hulk.

He goes through the usual spectrum of emotions as he stands helplessly in the middle of his bedroom floor deliberating. Nausea is the overriding sensation, backed up by nerves and influenced by excitement. He swaps the light purplish-grey shirt he’d originally chosen for a dark, dark blue one that’s almost ink-coloured. He pulls the sleeves down, then rolls them up to his elbows then tries them half way between his wrist and his elbow crease, and decides that’s probably best. Rolled too far up he looks like he’s about to get on his knees and scrub a tiled floor. Left all the way down he looks like a young offender on his way to Court to fetch his ASBO.

Despite his rumbling, empty tummy, his jeans feel tight around his middle as he fastens them. With every step he takes he can hear the brushed denim swiping together; that’s going to drive him mad if he doesn’t drive himself mad first. He’s by the door shoving his feet into his least-scuffed pair of all-black low top Converse when he suddenly remembers to brush his teeth.

Strategically angling his body as far back from the potential toothpaste splash zone as he can, Harry brushes his teeth and tries not to think about what he’s doing and where he’s about to go. He tries to reason with himself; maybe this could just be a one (or technically a two) time thing? Just because he might want to very much kiss this off-limits person, doesn’t mean he’s looking to settle down and adopt another ten kids. Maybe just one more night is okay? Get it out of his system, so to speak. He cringes at the double-entendre and spits out a frothy mouthful of mint.

*

Harry is just about ready to vibrate right out of his skin by the time the taxi pulls up. He’s been glued to the window watching since the moment he put the phone down after calling the depot. He can barely hear the inane but undoubtedly good natured chatter of the taxi driver over the roar of his blood in his ears. He feels positively light headed by the time he asks the taxi driver to pull over. He’s purposely dropped himself a two minute walk away from the address Louis had given him, but right now he thinks sod the fresh air, his legs feel about ready to give way and he wishes he hadn’t.

He pays the driver, bloody _nine pound_ , and steps onto the path from the road; the kerb higher than normal and the burn in his hamstring is real. He wipes his perspiring palms on the front of his jeans and takes a second to acclimatise before heading up the road in the general direction of the street Louis lives on.

The taxi is still pulled up at the side of the road as he leaves and he probably looks an idiot but really that’s the last of his concerns right now. Every couple of steps he misses a beat, scuffs the sole of his shoe against the loose chips of gravel or strays accidentally onto the grass verge for a step or two.

“Get a grip, you bloody dickhead.” He mutters firmly to himself under his breath, taking another sweep of his palms down his jeans. He turns onto the street, Silver Avenue, and Harry thinks it sounds nice. It looks nice too. This is the kind of place he’d pictured raising Luna, but perish _that_ thought.

All of the houses have matching driveways and neat little chocolate box front lawns. There are cars parked up on most of the available road space and the orange recycling bins are lined up by the front doors like there is a giant mirror in the middle of the road and one side is just a reflection of the other. Number 86 is about half way up the cul-de-sac, on a little side street of six houses. These few houses are smaller; each with a small patch of plain garden but no driveways or landscaping to speak of, apart from a few hanging baskets. The professional in Harry wants to give these gardens some life in the same way their main road counterparts have.

The six houses snake around in a horseshoe and 86 is slap bang in front of him with two houses to its left and three to its right. Harry very almost backs out as he sees the little road sign pointing to numbers 81-86, but somehow he makes it to the front door. He has a mini meltdown choosing whether to knock or ring the bell. He hadn’t been prepared for more than one option. In the end, he knocks. His hand feels so shaky that the knock is quite feeble but it is heard.

The first few minutes inside Louis’ company again are a blur. He doesn’t remember getting in the door or being shown a vague tour of the downstairs, or going through to the front room and sitting down on the sofa, but that’s where he finds himself once his brain has caught up with his body.

“Nice place,” He says, mentally slapping himself for such a rubbish conversation starter.

Louis hands him a beer as he sits down at the other end of the sofa, much more relaxed and comfortable on the sofa than Harry is, _obviously_ because it’s _his_ house. Louis looks good in a round neck white t-shirt and skinny jeans that look so tight he might turn blue. He bends one leg under the other and shifts his body so he’s positioned half-facing Harry.

“Thanks, the rent practically cripples me every month but I do love it.”

Harry knows what’s it’s like to have most of your wages go on rent alone. “I like it. Nicer than my flat.”

“I’d have t’see.” Louis replies and Harry realises he walked in to that one. “So, I don’t really do posh food. Anything homemade I make is from a packet, so I guessed if we were hungry later I’d order something in?”

Despite his previous screaming hunger, Harry hadn’t thought about food since he’d got into the taxi. Urging himself to try and _relax,_ he awkwardly shuffles backwards in his seat until his back hits the cushion of the sofa. He rests one hand by his side and uses the other to grip his beer bottle tightly, resting the base on his knee. He’s sure if he lifted it away he’d see a ring of condensation. “That’s fine, I wasn’t really expecting you to cook, anyway.”

“That’s alright then. Would hate to disappoint.”

“You don’t.” Harry says, braving a look at Louis for the first time.

“I hope you’re not freaked out. I know how we met was… what it was, but I don’t want that to be how you remember me.”

“I don’t, it’s fine. I mean, it’s not like… _that_ was one sided.”

“Takes two to tango.” Louis surmises.

“Exactly.” Harry confirms with a wave of his hand, and that was the most awkward summary of a blowie he has ever given/heard.

There is a brief pause but the silence is filled again before it can become awkward. “That night was the first time I’ve been out to town since I was like… twenty?”

“How old are you now?”

“Twenty four,” Louis answers, and okay, that’s fine. Harry hadn’t even considered an age gap but two years is pretty respectable. “You?”

“Twenty two,” Harry answers, relieved to be asked a question he has no trouble finding the answer to.

 

“Ah, just a baby.” Louis says softly, and he can see why Luna finds that annoying. “Are you always this quiet?”

Harry laughs, and it pierces the air but deflates some of the tension at the same time. “No, not usually. Sorry, I’m just like, painstakingly nervous.”

“You shouldn’t be nervous!” Louis exclaims warmly, reaching forward to lightly brush Harry’s thigh. “Get that beer down your neck, I won’t bite.”

_Unless you ask me to,_ Harry thinks to himself but he’s relieved Louis doesn’t tack that bit on; he doesn’t think he could cope with that.

It turns out its quite easy for Louis to coax him in to an easy conversation. Harry is appreciative of Louis skipping the topic of Luna all together, whether he’s doing it intentionally or not. Louis not being ‘good with posh food’ definitely was not just a line either, Harry comes to learn.

Standing in Louis’ kitchen with beer number two in hand, he feels considerably looser in his shoulders and back than he had when he’d arrived. His kitchen is nice; glossy white units and a solid looking light wood countertop. They stand on a grey tiled floor that Harry can’t help but think would be fun to slide about on in his socks.

With the visual of that and the relief at his tension and nerves beginning to disintegrate, he finds himself letting out a small little giggle. Louis picks up on it immediately, and the open mouthed grin that he gives stops Harry dead. It doesn’t just stop at his lips; it carries on to his eyes, all crinkly and tender around the edges.

“What are you giggling at?” He asks.

“Sorry, I… I just imagined sliding ‘round the kitchen in my socks. I think that’d be fun.”

“You’re somethin’ else,” Louis says, shaking his head lightly. He takes a hearty swig of his beer and places it back down on the countertop with a clunk. “Now! Like I say, I’m no Gordon Ramsay but I _do_ know how to use the Just Eat app.”

“I’m not sure if that counts as cooking, Louis.”

“Oi, shush spoilsport.” Louis rolls his eyes and Harry feels so endeared, his MO coming in to this is completely out the window. "Now, nothing too pongy, okay? What's your favourite?"

"I don't mind, what do you like?"

"No, don’t give me the choice! I can't make a choice."

"Well, do you like Chinese? Indian?" Harry asks, feeling his own laughter bubbling to the surface as Louis shoots him a floundering, pained look. "Pizza?"

"Harry! I said no choices!"

Harry lets out a soft laugh and their eyes linger on each other for a moment. "Chinese?"

"Perfect." Louis says simply, but for a moment neither of them moves. Louis stays rooted to the spot where he leans against the sink. Harry stays exactly where he is about two steps apart from Louis, resting his hand on the countertop and leaning most of his weight back onto the one arm. Harry drops his gaze at the same moment, Louis peers up at him and licks his lips. Suddenly, out of nowhere a bird flaps past the open window singing, and the moment is gone.

"Right..." Louis claps his hands grandly and takes his phone out of his pocket. "Food?"

He follows Louis' lead and turns around to face the units. Louis rests one elbow on the countertop and holds his phone in the other. Harry leans down on both arms and peers at the phone in Louis' hand.

"What do you fancy?" Louis asks hoarsely.

_Well there's a loaded question,_ Harry thinks in equal measures of self-loathe and disappointment. Without looking at Louis, he says, "Maybe… chicken, of some description?"

"Okay, there's... uh, there's a lot to choose from." Louis says, clearing his throat though there is nothing there to clear. He chooses the nearest takeaway to them and begins to idly scroll. He scrolls so quickly Harry can’t even see the menu, but then again, he isn’t thinking about food. His mind swims; he almost misses Louis saying, "Do you fancy something... sweet or... hot?"

Whether he can feel Harry’s breath on his cheek or what, Louis chooses that moment to look round. Turning his head towards Harry, who has inched closer to him in the few seconds they've been stood together, he whispers, "Harry?"

"Sweet, I think."

"Yeah?" Louis mouths, no discernible sound coming out, if you don't count the tiny little whisper and drag of his tongue against his lips.

Harry thinks that he should nod or something if he can’t get his words out, but before he can actually do _anything_ , Louis' lips are on his. God, he’s _way_ more sober than he was last time, he’s not prepared for this, but at the same time he kind of _is_ prepared for this. Maybe it’s how it makes him feel, not the simple act of kissing, that he feels unprepared for? He comes to his senses and urges himself to shut the hell up as he feels Louis coaxing him to open up. He obliges, feeling the soft but determined tongue in his mouth, and fuck if that isn't a contradiction he can get on board with.

Louis' hands are as busy as he had expected, flying all over his body like he can't decide where to put them. Harry’s embarrassingly hard already and he tries his best not to think about the implications of the press of the long line against Louis' thigh. A nanosecond’s worth of flashback of the club bathroom blowjob spikes through him and causes him to cry out into Louis' mouth. Louis rolls his hips into his and the minimal friction between his thigh and Harry's cock is enough to have him all but begging.

Louis' urgent hands slide around the contours of Harry's body but he finally rests them around the curve of his bum and coaxes him backwards. Louis steps back to the opposite side of the kitchen to where there is a bit of clear countertop space free of utensils and gadgets. They switch places in transit and Louis plants his hands into Harry’s shoulders to give him the boost he needs to shuffle his bum up onto the surface. He pulls Harry back in both by his shoulders and wraps his legs around his waist.

With Louis' heel in the bottom of his back pulling him as close as is humanly possible, he can finally rut up against the cupboard front for a bit more relief. He mumbles incoherently against Louis' lips as the boy breaks them apart to pull at the buttons of Harry's shirt, their foreheads pressed together. Harry has a moment to catch his breath and he realises just how intoxicating Louis' smell is; manly with minty shampoo and a musky, spicy aftershave where he'd be so used to candy sweet florals. It’s the passing of slightly rough fingertips breaking his skin and exposing red hot pools of molten lava that returns Harry to the here and now. Deftly, Louis flattens his palms and massages his chest, catching the buds of his nipples with the soft inner side of his pinkie fingers on each side. His breath catches in his chest and Louis must feel the rapid burst of air expanding in his chest because he digs his fingertips in where they lay and then smoothes over the area with a sweeping motion. Harry wonders if Louis can feel his heart beating where his hands rest.

“Relax, babe.” Louis says softly into his mouth, and yeah, he can definitely feel Harry’s heart hammering.

Blindly, Harry finally makes a move and reaches for the hem of Louis' t-shirt, feeling a numbness in his arms that threatens incoordination. Louis helps him out a bit and wriggles his body free of the garment; even with Harry's natural height advantage, with Louis' siting on the work surface Harry has to stretch right up to reach. Louis' fingertips are pressed into spots on his hips and lower back; the t-shirt goes falling to the floor. Louis' hair becomes mussed up in the process of removing it and he already looks fucked, Jesus.

Louis tugs firmly at the two edges of Harry's shirt, removing the material from his shoulders first, his left arm releasing first. Louis grabs hurriedly at the material slipping down Harry's right arm and tugs it off him, the dark item joining the t-shirt at their feet.

"Your body... you're amazing." Louis says throatily before wrapping an insistent hand around the back of Harry's neck and pulling him back in. It takes a beat or two to get themselves realigned; there is a bit of mismatched breathing and they are a hair's breadth from teeth clashing when Harry tilts his head the right way and they fall into harmony once again. He realises that he hasn't said anything back to Louis, but he's not sure he _should_ say anything back really. He doesn't know what he'd say if he were to reply. He can only just get himself coordinated with the kissing and the rutting up against the cupboard door, let alone adding a third thing into the mix.

His uncovered skin feels cool as Louis moves his hands and brings them round to the front, his fingers beginning to work at the fly of his jeans.

All at once, everything catches up to him and he suddenly feels light-headed. He’s on the other side of the room before he knows what he’s doing. "I'm... I ca- I'm sorry..." He's repeating in a breathless whisper, barely audible to himself let alone poor Louis.

Louis slides off the countertop and crosses the room to try and get to him. “What… Haz, what’s wrong?”

It's too much, there's too much going on for Harry to digest and make sense of. He'd have to be _blind_ to miss the pronounced swell of how hard Louis is and only lobotomy could make him forget the look on Louis' face. And he can’t even _register_ the use of the nickname ‘Haz’ right now.

Harry flinches away from Louis as he reaches out to touch him. "I'm sorry," He hears himself say, so softly he almost misses it, but then he realises _why_ he almost missed it; because it wasn't him apologising. It was Louis.

"I'm sorry I pushed it." Louis continues, and Harry feels like the whole house has filled with water and he's drowning.

“I ca- I’m- I...” He can’t put together a formed sentence, just struggles with the same _pathetic_ few syllables.

"It’s fine, it's fine," Louis keeps repeating, and it hurts to see him shrink back, away from Harry. He's nodding over and over like a madman, his glazed over eyes not really looking at Harry even though it feels like they're on him. The worst part is he still has to go back in and get his shirt. He can hardly remember getting here at this moment in time; he can't picture where he'll be when he steps out the front door.

He does manage to find some words, though. He keeps repeating he's sorry. He’s the one who should be sorry, not Louis. He’s clearly a fucking idiot. He can cut a night short to lay back on his bed and rub one out to the memories of a drunken blow job that he could have stopped at any time but didn't. He can fantasise about said blow job multiple times at work, in the shower, at the shops, while watching TV. But he can't face up to a simple human being before him.

Whether Louis is resigned to the fact that they won't see each other _'like this'_ again or he just doesn't want to pressure Harry right now, he lets him go without an argument. Harry balls his fists up angrily by his sides as he stumbles out the door, digging his short finger nails into his whitening palms to little avail.

Louis had just let him go, and he has to remind himself that that was what he _wanted._

 


	4. Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this written up and finished when i decided to explore the growing feelings between the boys a bit more in depth, and ended up here. I hope this is better, I think it is.
> 
> There is a very cheap 'happy as Larry' moment that I am SO sorry for!

 

In hindsight, Harry thinks Louis might want to practice his approaching technique a bit better than just running up behind someone and grabbing their arm. Harry is barely at the end of the path when Louis gets to him; the blood in his veins deafening him with its ferocity and he hadn’t heard a single thing.

“Harry, wait, wait!” Louis pleads, before lowering his tone. “Come back inside, please, I’m sorry. Can we talk?”

“No, I just wanna go home. I'm embarrassed." He says, quietly pouting into his chest. Louis' fingers tighten around his arm and Harry realises Louis is trying to turn him around.

He doesn’t look up from his chest as he turns, Louis' hand still wrapped around his arm. He does lessen his grip slightly, but they're not disconnected until Louis starts talking. "Harry, what was that?"

"I... I dunno." Harry says, rather un-explanatory.

"Can you come back in, _please_?" Louis asks tersely, Harry noticing his eyes wandering past his shoulder. Harry then remembers that a public showdown on Louis' garden path would give the neighbours plenty to gossip about, but that wouldn’t be good for Louis.

“I’m embarrassed.” He says again, not really answering Louis' question, and the older man rolls his eyes with a poorly-contained smirk.

“So am I, stood out on the street like this, please come back in?” Louis stares him down patiently; Harry isn’t sure he had blinked in the last few minutes.

“Okay,” he agrees, somewhat reluctantly, somewhat gladly. “Fine.”

He follows Louis back to the front door, their reflections bouncing and contorting off the doors of cars parked nearby. Louis holds the door open for him. He follows Louis in, standing out of the way of the door so Louis can close it. Once it’s closed and they’re submerged in dimmed light once again, Harry feels himself sink back against the door.

Louis is on him in a second, and Harry makes zero effort to stop him. His smaller body stands up very well to Harry’s, pushing him up against the door. Harry is vaguely aware of the bumps and edges of the letter box digging into his arse but he can live with it. Louis’ hands move so fast, in one second they’re clutching at his body and the next they’re cupping his face and inching upwards into his hair. Harry can’t help but fall into Louis’ kiss as he tugs at the fine curly hairs at the base of his neck. He takes his own hands off the wall where he’d been steadying himself and pulls Louis in closer. The backs of his thighs are solid, like rock solid, but Harry can feel the softer swell of his arse as he moves his hands up.

Louis rocks into him, clearly encouraged by that. He must be an arse guy. Is Harry an arse guy too? He’d never thought about that before.

"W-wait," Harry pulls out mid-kiss, much to Louis' obvious chagrin. “This is just a, a thing right? Casual, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah 'course," Louis agrees quickly, pulling Harry back down with a firm hand around the back of his neck. He allows the reintroduction of Louis’ tongue and the slide of Louis’ knee between his. Louis moves his hips in small back and forth motions against his thigh and Harry can feel him fattening up again.

"No-no-no-no, stop!” Harry utters, backing away from Louis’ kiss once again, dropping his gaze to the ground to avoid Louis' gaze.

“For fuck sake, Harry!” Louis sighs abruptly. “What is wrong?”

“I have a kid,” Harry says weakly.

“ _Yes_ , I know.”

“You’re her teacher.”

"Yeah, and?"

"This is just casual right; I don’t want to get either of us in trouble."

"Harry, the only trouble you'll be in is with me if you don't fuckin' shut up." Louis says, blunt as hell, but something spikes through Harry and he decides his Better Judgement will just have to agree to disagree with him on this. He feels torn apart by contradiction; knowing that he should escape before he gets in too deep but at the same time wondering how Louis' cock would feel in his hand, his mouth, his... _God_.

Stood in Louis’ narrow hallway; the front door behind him, the stairs to his left and the door to the front room on his right, silently Louis takes a step forward and nudges up Harry’s chin with the crook of his index finger. The look in his eyes is sincere and his bottom lip is bitten; all red and worried as he releases it from between his teeth. Louis must lift on to his tiptoes because Harry feels him raise up and press his body into his for support. Harry has to un-crane his neck.

“Tell me you don’t want this.” Louis says, his voice criminally hoarse and cracked against Harry’s cheek. “Look me in the eye and tell me and I’ll let you go.”

Harry doesn’t feel like he can lift his gaze. They’re so close; he feels suffocated but at the same time even an atom of space between them feels like a bereavement. That bloody feeling of contradiction shows no sign of letting up.

“See…?” Louis whispers, long and low against the column of his neck. “C’mon…”

He allows Louis to lead him upstairs into an oblong room. A bedroom. Louis' bedroom. The floor is laminate wood and the walls are white, the duvet cover is pale blue and that’s about all that Harry can take in, other than the beautiful, confusing boy that is laying him down gently atop the mattress.

“This okay?” Louis asks, his sweeping fringe falling forward with his elevation. He promptly shifts his weight onto just one arm to tuck the hair behind his ear and Harry can’t help but turn towards the bulging wrap of muscle on the inside of Louis' bicep. Blindly, he nods and tries to form the word ’yes’ with his tongue but it’s just stuck. Louis nods too in acknowledgment.

Every millimeter that Louis' body moves above him feels like murder, the friction is electric and they're both fully clothed still. Harry doesn't have a moment to think before Louis' lips are back on his; tilting his head up with urgency.

Louis tucks his fingers under one of his outstretched arms and digs the heel of the other one into the top of his rib, his fingers spread out across his right pec. His nipple sits between Louis' index and middle fingers, and Harry keens up into his kiss everytime Louis shifts his fingers across the sensitive bud.

Without a word but a sort of knowing smirk that fades before Harry has time to think too hard about it, Louis rocks back on his knees and straddles Harry's hips, his fingers deftly working the buttons down the front of his shirt. Harry's not sure how to carry himself for those few seconds that feel like hours. He lies there breathlessly with his head slightly off the mattress, peering down his nose at his tummy heaving up and down. Louis' nimble, petite little fingers work quickly and he doesn't stumble or miss a loop at all.

"Up," Louis instructs as the final button pops open. He dips his hands under each lapel of the loose material and runs them firmly over Harry's hips, wrapping his fingers around the curvature of his sides and squeezes to show he wants Harry to sit up.

Harry braces his tummy muscles and sits up, Louis' hands moving around to his shoulders without ever losing contact. He grabs the material and slides it off one shoulder, Harry shucking himself out of the other sleeve.

Louis balls the material up with both hands and tosses it off to the side, the crumpled shirt hanging off the edge of the bed by just the sleeve. Louis twists his body out of his t-shirt in a second, the garment thrown to the floor, knocking Harry's shirt down with it.

Louis is slim and tanned and curved around his belly button with jutting V-shaped hip bones that could cut Harry into pieces. The way he sits back on his legs and rests both his hands in the middle of Harry's chest causes his collarbones to sink into deep, deep pools that render Harry liquified inside.

Louis rolls his hips forward and presses down slightly too firm on Harry's chest, his breath catching in his throat. As the ever so slightly rounded swell of louis' tummy presses against his, Harry jolts. His skin is so, so warm and bloody soft. The trail of golden hair disappearing into the waistline of his black jeans brushes against Harry's own more sparse hairs and it's like electricity. He removes one hand then the other, flattening his palms either side of Harry's head and letting his weight down onto those same bulging muscles from earlier.

They crash into another kiss and it feels as urgent and important as the ones it supercedes. Louis' tongue works its way into Harry's mouth with little resistance; it doesn't feel like there is a single part of it that he hasn't touched.

Louis has the kind of body that needs each part of it paid attention to separately. The introduction of his hips rotating against his shows Harry's brain easily where to move on to next. Harry's sure he's already past rock solid in his jeans; he can feel the tight fabric resisting against his cock every time he ruts up to meet Louis' rotation.

Louis pulls away from his mouth, leaving Harry's pink, bitten lips feeling bereft. The warm tease of Louis' voice in his ear sends a violent shiver down his spine. "Feel good?"

All Harry can do is moan indecipherably, still rutting up against Louis even though the other boys' hips have stilled momentarily.

"You nice an' hard for me, yeah?" Louis asks again, and Jesus, Harry can't handle this, he's about to die. He nods feebly and bites down on his lip to stop himself crying out as Louis presses him further down into the mattress with his hips, thighs pinning him down like an iron vice. "So hard. So beautiful."

The way Louis says the word 'beautiful' lingers in Harry's mind, hard on the 'beaut-' and short and soft, almost lost on the '-iful.'

He reaches out involuntarily for Louis' hips as he pulses their bodies together, Louis giving groaning little encouragements too. "That's it, touch me. You like that?"

Harry doesn't answer, but he's guessing the way he is reacting gives Louis all the confirmation he needs. He feels Louis bite down on his earlobe, just once, before dropping a trail of kisses down the column of his neck and across his collarbone. He swallows hard and feels the brush of Louis' stubbly cheek against his skin as he moves down his body.

Louis shifts himself down the bed, getting lower on Harry's body. Harry's hands fall away to his sides, feeling useless until a thought crosses his mind and he has to feel the movement of the structure of Louis' back muscles for himself; imagination and fantasies no longer enough.

Harry's fingertips press into the skin first, followed by the flat of his palm. Every inch of Louis' flesh burns him but in the best possible way, he feels like he should have singe marks on the pads of his fingers when he takes away his hand.

As Louis works his way down Harry's body, trailing kisses and tracing small little licks, the formation of muscles and the way that his skin moves so fluidly feels amazing under Harry's touch. His breathing stops momentarily as he feels Louis begin to suck a love bite into his hipbone, spoiling the flesh in the best way possible. It doesn't occur to Harry at the time that he will have a souvenir to take from this night to last him at least a week.

"I've got you," Louis says against his skin, the wetness from his mouth, the cool of the air and the heat of his breath from his words amounting to an unbearable cacophony of senses. Harry remembers the first time Louis had said those words to him.

Louis has the buttons of his jeans undone while Harry is still marvelling over the lovebite. "C'mon, love," Louis coaxes him, and it take a minute for Harry to realise what Louis wants him to do.

With Louis sitting firmly atop him, almost at his knees, he hasn't much room to move so he lifts the weight of his torso and bum up off the bed with his arms. Louis slides his fingers under the waistband of both his jeans and black Calvin's and backs off the bed as he removes the items. Harry gives an automatic, reflexive little sob as his cock springs free from its cloth prison and bounces off his tummy with the movement of his hips.

"Can I?" Louis whispers, although he's already poised over Harry with a determination in his eyes. Harry makes a vague confirmative noise and drops his head back down to the mattress, his shoulders and neck burning with the awkward angle.

Louis sighs and hums softly; he is still humming when he makes his first move. He closes his mouth over Harry's head and sucks it in so the insides of his lips are ghosting at his foreskin, coaxing it down with their soft, moist and teasing charm. He licks all around, his mouth still on Harry, so when he sinks down for the first time, his head exposing itself against the roof of Louis' mouth, there is a warm slip to the whole thing that makes it perfect.

Fucking shit, last time wasn't a fluke. This is as amazing as it was the first time. Maybe more so. Every suck and every lick and every sordid flick of Louis' tongue is realer and clearer in his mind than the first time. It's like seeing a video in 1080p for the first time after being used to 240p.

"Fucking hell, Louis..." He rambles variations of the same curse over and over as Louis is relentless on the head of his cock. The noises are obscene. Harry thinks hazily that it's amazing he hasn't come already.

With his mouth still full of Harry's cock, Louis mumbles something that sounds like "good babe" and he draws back to Harry's thick head, swirling his tongue expertly around the perimeter, paying special attention to the sensitive strip on the underside that sends tremors through Harry every couple of seconds. Between each sweep of his tongue he closes his mouth around him and sinks down about halfway before sliding back up effortlessly and repeating the flick of his tongue.

"L-Lou, I'm gonna come." Harry murmurs, eyes tightly closed, as he feels that familiar feeling churning and building inside of him. With an encouraging hmmm of agreement, the vibrations of the soft noise and the channelled, perfectly executed last few bobs of Louis' head on his cock, he comes down the back of Louis' throat. Harry's eyes fly open and his head lifts off the bed, Louis groaning hungrily as Harry feels definitely three but possibly four ribbons of come drag themselves from him.

Harry is amazed he doesn't automatically blow another load right away as Louis reappears in his line of vision with a little wipe of the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. As before, he can taste himself on Louis' tongue as their lips meet again for a kiss. Louis works himself quite vigorously against Harry's thigh, uttering into his mouth with every kiss.

Harry's hands, that had assumed position on the swell of Louis' arse, move around to try and locate the fly of Louis' jeans. His jeans are equally as tight as Harry's but his elevated position makes removal a little easier. He has to break the kiss for a second to concentrate, and Louis helps him to get his cock free.

Shit, right okay. This is happening it seems. Harry doesn't expect what happens next, and maybe that's because he had been misjudging Louis; selling him short (he'll save that joke until they're on better terms).

Louis lets himself down off his knees, his jeans and boxers kicked to the foot of the bed. He sinks into the space next to Harry, propped up on one elbow, his one leg draped over Harry's. "Are you alright?"

Harry nods, swallowing thickly. He is alright, this is just a lot. "I think so."

"I don't wanna force you into anything."

"It's fine," Harry find himself saying, not feeling one hundred percent sure about that fact yet, but clearly his subconscious thinks this is just fine.

"Just go slow?" Louis says, and it sounds half like a suggestion, half like a confirmation.

"I'm fine," Harry says, reaching down between their bodies for Louis' cock.

Fucking hell, his arms feel so bloody light and helium filled he can hardly feel anything at first, but with a few furious blinks and a deep breath, the firmness his palm is wrapped around is unmistakable. "Relax..." Louis tells him, so softly its almost missable.

After a few tester tugs, Harry getting his footing as it were, Louis rolls slowly onto his back and Harry pulls himself onto his side. He takes hold of Louis again and tries a deft sweep of his fist up and down. Louis rocks his hips up with that and murmurs an encouraging "yesss...."

Harry can feel precome at the head making the transition a bit slick, and with sheer concentration on his face and his eyes fixed on the handle of the bedside table he is looking directly at, he steadily wanks Louis.

Louis' hand snaking around his neck and over his jaw knocks him out of his concentration daydream. "C'mere," Louis says as he presses their lips back together. Harry comes down to meet Louis halfway and follows him as he rests his head back down on the bed. He moans encouragingly into Harry's mouth and he flicks his wrist at the head, looping his palm over the sensitive tip before dropping back down. He loves that, personally, and figures he might be a complete novice at this whole handjob thing, but he's wanked himself into oblivion plenty of times and he has learned a thing or two about what feels nice. It's the perfect opportunity to try some of it out.

Louis' leg that isnt slipped underneath Harry's shoots up and drops outwards, his hand flying out to grab at his inner thigh.

"Okay?" Harry asks against Louis' lips.

"Yeah, fuckin'... yeah." Louis stammers, leaning back into Harry's lips. Harry continues, establishing a way to kiss and work Louis without losing his coordination. Louis rotates his hips in tiny, almost indiscernible circles, falling apart under Harry until he's bucking his chest off the bed and telling Harry that he's about to come.

"'kay..." Harry murmurs, low and mostly in his throat. He can do this, he's done this many times to himself, this is no different he just can't feel the sudden surge. He can definitely see it coming on Louis' face though, and in the jerky, irrational movements of his body.

Louis comes onto his belly, one stream trickling down to the juncture of Harry's thumb and index finger where his fist is still wrapped around Louis' leaking length.

"Fuck..." Louis babbles breathlessly, pressing one solitary kiss to the corner of Harry's mouth before dropping his head back down once again. "So good, so good."

Harry drops his forehead to Louis' shoulder and runs his tongue over his dry lips. Realising he still has Louis in his hand, he releases his grip and moves it to rest just above Louis' knee. He looks at the man on the bed beneath him; a thin sheen of sweat around his hair line, his skin pink where he's pushed his sweeping fringe off his forehead and back into a tangled mess. He stays up on his arm until it starts to tremble, and he lets the weight off it, unable to stand it any longer.

They lay side by side for a few minutes or maybe an hour or two; Harry can no longer tell the time. He imagines the come drying on Louis' tummy. He thinks of his own come that had shot down the back of Louis' throat, effortlessly and without fuss. He considers just how sober they actually are. About how lying side by side with someone you don't actually know that well, naked and half of you covered in come, is still casual, right? He doesn't feel anything, just numb.

It’s not necessarily bad, but it doesn't feel good either. Just neutral. Neutrally numb? Pink Floyd, eat your heart out.

"Hey," Louis says softly, pulling himself up onto one elbow and pressing his hand to the top of Harry's arm gently. "I’m gonna go and clean up. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, 'm fine." Harry replies, his voice gravelly and he needs to clear his throat but he thinks that whole action would be too harsh and brute for this quiet moment that feels almost precious. "See you in a minute?"

Louis eyes him for a few seconds longer before nodding and pulling himself up off the bed. Harry watches shamelessly as he cuts across the room; all curved edges and swelling expanses of golden skin, the slight bounce of his marginally less golden bum. Shadows catch in the crevices of his shoulders and back, even more so when he is hunched forward.

Louis disappears down the landing to the bathroom Harry is not privy to, and he hears running water a second later. Idly, Harry sits up and reaches down the bed for his boxers, throwing the fabric loosely over himself and leaning back on one extended arm. He tucks one leg in, pressing the sole of his foot along his calf and tries to calm his heartbeat that still dances erratically in his chest.

"I’m back," Louis says softly as his shadow passes over the threshold and he appears, somewhat covered in a pair of thin white boxers. "I’ve left the light on in the bathroom so it’s easy to find."

Harry nods and shuffles forward on the bed, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed by his own naked state. He points out to himself that Louis has sucked his cock more than once now; the moment for being shy has been and gone. With a deep breath and the realisation that he can't very well get out to the bathroom without standing up, he steps off the bed and mumbles a rushed thank you to Louis as he passes him into the hallway.

Sure enough, the door on the other side of the narrow passageway that filters light from it is the bathroom. He stands at the sink, studying intently the Bleu De Chanel aftershave, toothbrush and paste, mouthwash and Sure deodorant that line the little window sill above the sink. He’d forgotten that bathrooms without Peppa Pig bath toys and dinosaur shaped electric toothbrushes exist.

He sits down to pee; he needs a moment to rest his head in his hands and collate himself. While he's there he steps into his boxers, leaving them bunched around his knees. It takes a while to happen but he finally empties his bladder and cups his hands full of cool water, firstly dampening his face and then freshening himself up. He dries off and hits the flush, making his way back to the bedroom.

Louis has opened a window but he can still sorta smell... them. He looks up at him from where he's straightening the duvet and smiles softly, privately. "Hey. Everything alright?"

Harry nods, standing awkwardly in the doorway. What the hell happens now? Louis perches on the edge of the freshly straightened bed and looks at the space next to him, an invitation for Harry to join him.

"So, uh, taxis at this time of night will be astronomical prices." Louis says, rather unsubtly.

Harry takes a place tentatively next to Louis. He leans forward on his arms, exhaling through his nose, and without his famous Better Judgement that had abandoned him on the path outside Louis' house earlier, he nods. "Yeah, most likely."

"You could walk. I mean, I can't drive you, I’ve had four beers."

"That’s true." Harry agrees, matching Louis' cheeky, half formed smile that he's trying to stifle. "I’d have to walk, then."

"Or, y'know, my bed is perfectly big enough for two." Louis says, turning his head to look fleetingly over his shoulder. "If you don't fancy the walk."

Staying the night still counts as casual right? Even people on one night stands usually make it the entire night with their paramour. It’s not like Louis' offered to let him move in. He catches Louis' eye as he looks back round. "Sounds good t'me."

"Good." Louis echoes softly, nodding. They continue to look at each other, laughing softly but not making any effort to move.

They end up finally ordering that food they'd discussed earlier - that feels like a million years ago now - except the Chinese has since closed so it’s Domino's pizza. They agree with surprising ease that the best topping is Ranch BBQ. Pizza is casual. Pizza is noncommittal.

"Wow that was easy. I expected full out war." Louis laughs, looking down at his phone with a furrowed brow as he taps through the app to place their order. "You don't wanna be at mine when all my sisters are here; it's like a battle ground. We always end up going half and half with like a million different toppings and everyone always ends up eating someone else's anyway."

"Must be mental," Harry surmises as he imagines a million female Louis' fighting over what pizza to order. "Sometimes I’m glad it’s just the two of us. Me and Lune, I mean."

God, that was supposed to be clear but wasn't supposed to sound so dickish. Nevertheless, Louis smiles briskly, but to his credit doesn't comment any further on Luna. "I envy you. Right, it's ordered. Hopefully won't be long."

*

Things go off-piste a bit as they wait for the pizza, and Harry blames his delirium on his hunger. He learns a lot about Louis as they wait for the delivery person. Louis confirms that 'all my sisters' means four in total, including a set of twins.

"First came Lottie when I was six, then Fizzy, then Pheebs and Dais. Or, Charlotte, Felicite, Phoebe and Daisy, if we're being technical."

"Nice names."

"Yeah, think my mum got a bit pissed off with all the nicknames though. Not one of us really goes by our proper names. Not even mum, come to think of it, so I dunno what she’s moaning about."

"What’s her name?"

"Jay. Or Johannah." Louis explains. "We're just a family of nicknames, us Tommos."

" _Tommo_?" Harry asks with a smirk.

"Yeah, been Tommo to most of my mates since first day of school. Lottie kinda adopted it too, just wanting to be cool like me, I think really."

"Tommo..." Harry repeats. "Very 'cool'."

"I know, thanks." Louis says with a chortle.

Harry also learns that at school, despite the distress of the majority of the boys in his year, Louis studied Child Development at GCSE level and then Early Years Development and Health and Social Care in college before working for three years in various nurseries and preschools to gain his Early Years teacher status two years ago. He’d been at Butterflies for a year and a half.

"I kinda always wanted to do it," Louis explains, talking about working with young kids. “I had a sibling under five until I was seventeen; it was the only thing I really knew I was sure of."

"That’s great," Harry muses. He pauses to think about his own life at seventeen. There were no thoughts about careers or further education; the only future planning he was doing was thinking about how he was going to fit the baby's cot in his bedroom. "I sometimes wish I had a career not just a job."

"You’ve got the best job in the world, though. Being a dad, I mean, not a builder!” Louis says with a laugh, and Harry nods. He supposes that’s pretty bloody accurate. Louis doesn’t mention the subject again.

"I had sister's comin' outta me ears, no father figure in my life, and before the girls dad Mark came along, it was just me and me mum. I was plaiting hair and coming up with cures for period pain instead of joining a sports team or going to under 18 nights at clubs. I’m not sure what else they expected."

"Was it hard? Realising you were…"

"Yeah, sometimes." Louis says candidly. "As bad as it sounds, for a long time I wished I could be 'normal' - whatever normal is. It feels awful thinking that now. I came out at fifteen and a lot of people hated it, didn’t get it or whatever. Think all the boys just thought it meant I fancied them, as if!"

Harry nods, scratching idly at an itch on his arm. "That sucks."

Louis nods as well. "It worked out okay though. Not one of them from school that I've seen since has anything bad to say. It's almost as if, shock horror, my personal life choices haven't affected them at all! Crazy, right?"

"What a concept!" Harry agrees dryly. Shit, this is making friends, Harry thinks, keeping his expression neutral even though he is melting inside. Lucky for Harry, they're saved from venturing any further down memory lane by the ding-dong of the doorbell.

"Saved by the bell!" Louis says softly as he trots towards the door. "Be right back."

The pizza is delicious and Harry feels almost emotional taking the first bite. The tiny amount of popcorn he'd had almost twelve hours ago had faded from his stomach's memory long ago. They eat and drink another two beers each.

Two voices are arguing in his head with opposite view points; one telling him he should quit while he is marginally ahead. The other that is fighting to be heard is arguing that maybe Harry should just shut the fuck up and get on with it? There has been no indication so far that Louis wants to marry him and move them down to the Kent countryside. He’s most likely being extremely conceited and arrogant worrying so much that Louis might want a relationship with him. He’s damaged goods after all. He’d heard that one before.

Harry feels a bit displaced as he finishes his final slice, leaving behind a tough crust that has gone cold and chewy with their extended pauses to laugh and talk. "Don’t like your crusts?" Louis remarks as he moves the empty box to the coffee table.

"No, my hair is curly enough already." Harry explains with a soft laugh that Louis matches and then beats as it turns into a honking chuckle.

They pass more time with a bit more kissing, which okay, Harry is fine with that. Louis' knee knocks against his as they edge closer together, Louis all but mounting Harry.

"So..." Louis says against Harry's lips, breaking their kiss and pressing their foreheads together. "You still okay to stay? I'd predict taxis are the most expensive they've ever been right now."

"Yeah, I’ll stay." Harry hears himself say. "Thank you."

*

Louis finds him a spare toothbrush and leaves it for him on the edge of the sink. He finds settling into Louis' bed in Louis' bedroom in Louis' house next to actual Louis himself only sightly daunting. Under the covers he can smell the comforting waft of a fresh linen scented fabric softener and the pillows are unbelievable soft.

Louis' side of the bed is obviously the right hand side. That's the side where his phone charger is plugged in and an empty mug of tea and apparently a contact lens case sit. Therefore, Harry gets in on the left and shuffles down the mattress until he is comfy.

Louis joins him, and they lay on their respective sides facing in to each other. Louis' finger tips idly pat at Harry's bare torso as they share a soft, almost whispered back and forth conversation, interspersed with a few kisses here and there.

"I'm about to go," Louis tells him, smiling wearily at him through glossy, glazed over eyes. Harry had noticed a few times in the last few minutes Louis' speech lull and his eyes go blank for a beat. "Night, Harry."

"Night, Lou." Harry says softly back.

Harry hates himself as he watches Louis fall asleep on his side, his body sinking further down into the mattress unconsciously as he falls deeper. Eventually, he slumps forward so he's lying on his front. He nuzzles his cheek into the pillows and pulls his features into a sort of frown. Harry has to blink away his focus on the sleeping man. This is definitely risky.

It's about thirty five minutes later that Harry starts to feel the call of sleep coming over him too. His brain has been going over and over every single riddle, anecdote and piece of trivia that he has ever come across in his life; sleep had certainly seemed impossible at one point.

Harry has no idea what the time is. Louis has barely moved apart from his arms; they're now both tucked under the pillow and his face is half-hidden by one golden limb. Harry shifts slowly and carefully down the bed so he doesn't disturb Louis and tries to close his eyes.

He'd had - there's no use in dwelling on how many exactly - one night stands before, and this is nothing like that. He doesn't know what he can liken it to but a one night stand definitely isn't it. He falls asleep wondering just what the hell he thinks he's doing.

*

As Harry had fallen asleep last, he wakes first. Just to be different. Louis has turned over in the night and is facing away from him but his bottom leg is spread out across to Harry's side of the bed; Louis obviously not used to having to share.

He peers at Louis' phone on charge on the bedside table; the screen glowing and the time widget floating idly around the screen.

11:24am.

He lays there for a few moments, breathing in the unfamiliar fabric softener and trying to ignore the fact that he really bloody needs a wee.

He does his best to extract himself from Louis' bed without too much movement; he'd rather not get caught with morning wood. He creeps along to the bathroom, every bloody floorboard creaking in the stark silence of the morning. He's sure they hadn't done that last night. The door to the bathroom squeaks proudly as it both opens and shuts, and Harry isn't surprised to see Louis sat up on the edge of the bed staring at the carpet dozily when he returns.

"Mornin'!" Louis says wearily through a yawn, pulling the covers over his lap where Harry has already seen his alert length prominent in his thin boxers. "Sleep okay?"

"Yeah thanks." Harry says, his voice croaky with the first use of the day. "Sorry if I woke you."

"It's alright. I think it's high time I woke up, anyway. You been awake long?"

"No, only a few minutes."

"Fancy brekkie?" Louis asks, getting to his feet, looking pained as his bones wake up. "I'm not much of a chef, as you know, but I can do toast? Or cereal?"

"No," Harry says, not meaning to sound so snappy. "I mean, I've gotta get to my mums to get Luna. Said I'd be there at twelve and... well I don't think it’s fair on mum if I'm too late."

"That's fair," Louis says, bending down to pick Harry's shirt up for him. "You'll be needing this."

"Thanks," Harry says, reaching out for the shirt Louis is holding up for him. "Sorry to have to dash."

"It's okay. I'm sorry we slept in so late."

"I suppose the weekends are made for lying in, eh?"

"Yeah, I can definitely get behind that notion." Louis says, and Harry can't help but recognise the double entendre. "Is it far?"

"Is what far?" Harry blinks back at him, mind temporarily completely blank.

"Your mum's house."

"Oh!" Harry exclaims. "Oh, uh, no. It's about ten minutes from my flat so... about twenty minutes’ walk maybe?"

"I'll drive you?" Louis puts an inflection on it like it's a question and like Harry has a choice but it feels more like he doesn't have a choice.

Of course, Harry tries to argue. He tries to fob Louis off with how much he wants to do and likes the walk. By the time he is dressed and Louis has forced a cup of tea down his neck, it's ten to twelve and without a lift from Louis, he will be late.

"Okay, fine." Harry concedes, adding because he sounds ungrateful, "Thank you, Lou."

"Anytime, Haz."

Fucking shite.

*

Harry lies and tells Louis that his mum’s house is one street over from where it actually is. They pull up to the kerb and sit in an indescribable silence for a moment or two. Louis is the first to break it.

“I’d like to see you again, if you want to see me again.”

Harry is steadfastly mute. No. Yes. Definitely yes.

“Okay, well, thank you for coming back. I guess… I hope I’ll see you soon?” Louis tries again; Harry's opportunity to answer gone.

“Thanks for the lift home,” Is all Harry says. _God, what a_ ** _twat_** _!_

Louis’ fingers, that had been fiddling with the key chains that hung from the ignition, freeze and he withdraws them, clasping them in his lap and shifting noticeably.

“Harry?” Harry is reaching for the door handle. He pulls his hand back suddenly, as if burnt. He looks up at Louis, waiting. “I really would, you know? Like to see you again.”

Feeling helpless, Harry can only nod. It’s not an okay, it’s not a yes and it's not a no. It's the best Harry can offer right now without having to put into verse how he is feeling. Struggling, he clears his throat and reaches again for the door handle; the heady, warm air filtering in and heating up his leg through his black jeans already. Whisperingly, he manages a feeble, “I’ve gotta go.”

In yesterday’s outfit with yesterday’s beer still dry on his tongue, he softly slams closed the car door and begins his journey up the path. He passes by the houses that back on to his mum’s house; fascias of homes he’s only ever seen the back of judging him as he traipses past. He doesn’t want to see his sorry reflection mirrored back at him in windows or car doors. He hears the crunch of wheels beginning to spin on loose tarmac chippings and he peers over his shoulder to see the tail end of Louis’ car driving away.

Hastily, he crosses over to the other side of the street and cuts through the alley way between two houses; bringing him out in front of his mum’s house.

“God, you look awful, sweetheart!” Anne crows the second she opens the door.

“Thanks!” Harry replies painfully. He brushes past her and steps into the living room, Luna peering up at him with a smile that makes everything else pale into insignificance for a while.

“Hello, baby.” He greets her where she lays, the wrong way round on the sofa, feet up resting on the wall and her head tipped over the side, her blonde pig tails hanging limp and dusting the carpet. He drops to his knees and crawls along the floor towards her, pressing an upside down kiss to the tip of her nose. “Missed you.”

“I been good!” Luna assures him immediately, which Harry immediately finds suspicious. He turns to glance at his mum, who is smiling.

“I promised her that if she was good you would take her to the swings later on.” Anne explains, and thanks mum! “That’ll be alright, won’t it Harry?”

With a roll of his eyes in her direction, he nods.

He could almost sing with joy when his mum asks him if he fancies lunch. He sits around the table in the kitchen-diner with Luna as his mum makes them sandwiches. He watches as Luna carefully colours Rocky from Paw Patrol in yellow and pink instead of his standard green and grey. She holds the tip of her tongue between her lips as she concentrates and Harry smiles absentmindedly to himself.

It’s a struggle to get Luna to eat her food while she is colouring; but then she is reminded that if she doesn’t eat she can’t go to the park and she puts her pencil down and takes a begrudging bite. Harry enjoys his food a bit too much. The Domino’s now seems like a distant memory and he suspects that’s probably not helping with the whole insanity thing.

With just his crusts and a few strands of escaped grated cheese left on his plate, he pushes it out of the way and reaches across for one of Luna’s pencils, a blue one as it happens, and starts absentmindedly doodling spirals, stars and flowers in the corner of a piece of scrap paper.

“’at’s very pretty, daddy.” Luna remarks, peering over at his page like some sort of art critic. “I like them stars the most. Can you do me stars on my bedroom walls?”

That escalated quickly, Harry thinks to himself, smiling. “Maybe one day, love. When Daddy’s got some time off work.”

“But when will that be?” Luna asks particularly, causing Harry to smile involuntarily.

“Soon babe. One day in the summer holidays?” Harry offers, reminding himself that Luna is not the kind of child you should make promises to if you have no intent on keeping them. “When Daddy has been paid.”

“You spend it all on beers!” Luna says.

“Oi, that’s not true! Who do you think paid for you to go and see The Secret Life of Pets yesterday?”

“Nanny?”

“No, me! You little bugger.”

“Nanny!” Luna squeals, agog. “Daddy done a swear! He done’s them all the time, you know?”

“Oi!” Harry squawks again. “I do not! Mum, she’s lying!”

“Enough!” Anne shouts, rolling up a well-placed (for her) magazine and swatting at him. “Honestly, it’s like having two babies in my kitchen!”

“I’m not a baby!” Luna pouts. “I’m almost a going big school!”

“Of course you’re a big girl, sweetie. Daddy and Nanny are just being silly.” Anne says as Harry pokes his tongue out at Luna, rubbing his arm where the thwack! of the copy of Women’s Own he’d been attacked with still smarts. Why are people so intent on reminding him his baby is growing up? He doesn’t want to think about it. He can’t bear to think about her in her school uniform trotting off into the classroom, inevitably to make a barrage of ne'er-do-well friends and forget all about him and their last five years together.

“Oh, by the way, pinch punch first day of the month!” His mum reaches for his arm and pinch-punches her way through the stupid rhyme. “Happy first of July!”

Urgh, now that its blimming July he doesn’t even have a full month now until Luna finishes preschool.  It had seemed so far away when it was ’next month’ but now it’s ’this month’ and it makes Harry feel sick for so many reasons he can barely breathe.

*

A torturous mix of jittery excitement and ignoring his Better Judgement had kept Harry awake most of Sunday night, and so he sleeps in by twenty minutes on Monday morning. Everything is a blind panic, rushing to get Luna up, dressed and out the door, and he can’t calm down until mid-morning. He gets Luna to preschool by the skin of his (unbrushed, urgh) teeth, ushering the little girl in with her mismatched socks and jeans that he probably should have put in a charity donation bag months ago.

The big display in the preschool corridor that on Friday had said ‘June’ with ice creams and tennis racket paintings adorning it now says ‘July’ and there are finger paintings of palm trees and shining suns made by the kids.

Sunshine... don't think it Harry, he says to himself as he spies Luna’s fuchsia pink and yellow palm tree pinned near the top left. Despite his hurry, while there is no one around he quickly snaps a picture of it on his phone to set as his lock screen. It’s been her ‘Happy Father’s Day’ drawing of the two of them fishing (nice imagination, Luna) for over a year now.

The van has been waiting on the kerbside for him “for ten minutes” according to Mikey but Harry thinks that’s a lie; he’s only three or so minutes behind schedule now with the extraction of breakfast and a cuppa from his morning routine.

He swills his mouth out with sugarless tea from Dean’s flask and wills himself to calm down as they begin their journey up the dual carriageway. The estate is about two minutes off the main road, but Harry suspects that by the time the Housing Association have finished planning, the back gardens of the last rows of houses will face right out onto the motorway. Harry has seen that many a time.

His morning is busy, spent levelling off the gardens for the first rolls of turf to be laid. The monotony of digging and shovelling dirt is second nature to Harry now; he doesn’t even have to think about it. He doesn’t dwell on the fact that all he can think about as he flings one final shovelful of earth before throwing down his shovel for lunch is Louis.

He shrugs and grunts noncommittally as the boys discuss perhaps a night out, if the nice weather continues, in the beer garden at the local. He eats his sandwich and washes it down with a much more acceptable tea from the urn without much interest or conviction.

His newly determined attitude is doing wonders for his work rate; he clocks over onto row C two days ahead of his personally appointed schedule of Wednesday. Knowing their supplier, the turf will probably be three weeks late getting delivered, though, but nevertheless he carries on, undeterred even when a few chilly drops of rain bother his skin. He pulls up his hood and pulls on a pair of (very dirty) tracksuit bottoms over his shorts to carry on working.

The rain doesn’t let up for the rest of the afternoon, and he’s looking and feeling like shit when he picks Luna up.

“Letter, Daddy!” Luna flies out of her class brandishing a crumpled bit of paper proudly. He catches it from her waving grasp and studies it quickly.

_Dear parents and carers,_

_Please join us for our graduation ceremony, at Butterflies Preschool in the Sports Hall at 3.45pm on Friday 20th July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Carmen_

_Butterflies Headteacher_

After his initial scoff at the newsletter, Harry imagines for a moment a parade of uncoordinated, disobedient and overly emotional four year olds going up to the stage in their homemade mortarboards to get their certificates, reducing their proud parents to blubbering messes with their singing.

Shit, he’s the blubbering proud parent. That’s going to be him.

*

“Grad-er-ation, grad-er-ation, grad-ooo-ation!” Luna chants all the way out of the building, across the car park. “Can we phone Nanny an’ tell her about it, see if she wants to come?”

Harry nods and reaches in his pocket for his phone. He finds his mum’s number in his recent contacts, ignoring the other number at the top, and presses ‘call’. “Here y’are,”

“Hi Nanny, you comin’ to my grad-oo-ation, Nanny?” Luna asks as Anne picks up with a sing-song hello.

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Luna Flower.” Anne says happily. “When is it?”

“On Friday a twen-ti-eth of July!” Luna enunciates clearly, proudly for Anne.

“I’ll definitely be there sweetheart.”

“Okay, here’s Daddy!” Luna shoves the phone back to him and stomps on ahead, only one of her Skechers flashing as she goes. Great, she’ll need a new pair as soon as she notices. He talks briefly to his mum, checks everyone is alright and promises to call her properly for a chat tomorrow.

It’s sunny and clear now, but his clothes are still largely damp and his boots even heavier with added weight of precipitation. Sighing, he calls to Luna who is skipping on ahead of him. “Hey Lune, do you fancy a yummy dinner tonight?”

She nods, wide-eyed, and they deviate from their route home to head for the bus stop. The whole experience is an adventure for Luna, going on the bus and sitting up on the high up stools in the recently renovated McDonalds. She asks if they can go to the cinema again also, as it’s in the same complex, but he manages to talk her out of that.

Luna is happy as Larry in McDonalds, swinging her legs on the stool; her feet a good foot or so off the ground. Her chicken nuggets and fries are splayed out over several unfolded napkins, just like Harry remembers his mum doing for him and Gemma when they were kids. If Harry can be half the parent his mum is, he’ll have done well.

He finds it quite funny – not funny ha-ha but funny sad – that he doesn’t have a dad and Luna doesn’t have a mum. He didn’t understand when he was a kid why his dad wasn’t there, why he didn’t want to be there, and now as an adult, his own daughter is living that same reality. It makes Harry’s blood boil and his palms itch with anger and upset, but then he wouldn’t want to share Luna for the world. Unless it was the right person, and Claire Moore certainly was not the right person to be around Luna, despite the fact that biologically she was mother.

Of course, Luna doesn’t really question things yet but Harry knows it will come up one day. The preschool had been fantastic at Mother’s Day, letting Luna create a card to give to Anne. If Luna and Claire passed in the street without Harry there to give the game away, neither would recognise the other.  That makes Harry feel sick.

“Can you open my toy?” Luna asks, handing over the Happy Meal toy. Harry is glad to be shaken from his reverie. He takes the toy in its plastic wrapper and hides it by his side.

“No, not yet, eat something first.” He says, knowing full well that if Luna gets the toy out the food will go cold and that’ll be £1.99 down the drain.

She huffs and tries to protest but he picks up his vanilla milkshake and motions for her to stop. He watches her as she picks up a chicken nugget and nibbles the edge of it feebly.

“Lune, the quicker you eat the quicker you can play with your toy, eh?” He explains to her, hoping that that’ll speed her up a bit. She looks at him sceptically and continues to nibble at her food, this time at a chip bathed in ketchup. At this rate, she’ll need another pot of sauce before she’s finished, and she’s already had three.

Taking a deep breath, Harry reminds himself that they’re in no rush. So, he sits back and accepts that Luna is going to purposely take her time eating her Happy Meal because she knows its stressing him out. He can see her cheeky little grin bend around the chip that she is biting and he feels equal parts enamoured and enraged.

He reaches again for his milkshake and sucks hard on the straw to get the last thick, slushy remnants up, all the while mentally scolding himself for the impure thoughts that are running through his head.

As if by magic, his phone buzzes against his thigh at that moment, and he slams down the drink a little too enthusiastically. Luna looks up at him, puzzled, and then goes back to staring at the floor in a sulk, the same chip in her hand going soggy under the weight of all the ketchup.

Harry’s stomach lurches with sight of the little red ‘1’ next to the envelope icon on his home screen. Eagerly, he taps the app and waits impatiently for his battered old phone to catch up. Absentmindedly, he runs his thumb across the crack in the screen where it had fallen out of his pocket on the building site once.

_‘Can’t stop thinking about you, please can I see you again? x’_

Harry hates himself for his knee-jerk reaction to Louis' message going straight to his cock. His thumb hovers over the QWERTY keypad, unsure how he is going to respond.

“Who’s you textin’, Daddy?” Luna asks, kicking his knee under the table. Repeatedly.

“Mikey,” He lies quickly, oops.

“Why’s you smiling, did him tells you a joke?”

“Uh, yeah.” Harry finds himself thinking on his feet yet again. He hadn’t realised he was smiling, either. Thanks, Luna. “Why was 6 afraid of 7?”

“Dunno…” Luna says, looking both blank and ponderous at the same time. Harry doesn't anticipate her understanding the joke, but he thinks it's a good one, despite how lame it is.

“Because 7 8 9!”

She looks at him closely for a second and then bursts into uncontrollable laughter, even though, again, Harry is sure she doesn't actually get the joke, just knows that you’re supposed to laugh when someone tells a joke. “Good one, Daddy!”

As he’s talking, another message from Louis comes in.

_’I understand if you need some space but please just talk to me. x’_

_'Sorry, just out with Luna. We could do something soon maybe?'_

Harry rolls his milkshake cup around the table top on the curved edge of the base. This isn’t casual anymore, is it?

_'You sound like you're slowly warming to me, Haz. Louis 1 - 0 You. Would love to see you when you're next free. x'_

Jesus Christ, this boy is something else.

_’You’re so hard to say no to.’_

_’Ha! Im not bad at advice if there’s something on ur mind x'_

_'It’s hard with Luna, I can’t just drop everything. Can I let you know? x’_

_’Course, no pressure. I'll leave it with you, when you’re ready x’_

_Okay,_ Harry feels satisfied by that. God, this boy is really bloody lovely. Why the hell can’t Harry get it together?

*

He next sees Louis on Thursday, when he’s waiting for Luna.

Louis spots him and gives him a small smile and a wide berth, for which Harry is grateful. _Bloody lovely boy_ , as he’d mentioned before.

Later on at home, he remembers he hasn’t called his mum back after their brief exchange on Monday. He tries her at home to no avail. He tries her mobile and it’s bustling and windy on the other end of the phone as she answers. “Hello Mother Styles, it’s your favourite son and granddaughter’s residence calling.”

“Oh hello, favourite son! I was waiting for your call!”

“Yeah, sorry, I got a bit waylaid. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m actually out shopping? Fancy a visitor in about an hour?”

“Yeah sure, Lune’ll love that. And me, of course!” He adds hastily.

*

“Oh wow, Nanny!” Luna squeals as the downstairs door buzzes and her voices comes through the intercom. Anne arrives with a packet of custard filled doughnuts and a packet of jam filled doughnuts, 2 for £1 in Tesco. They sit around cups of tea chatting easily, Luna largely taking over the conversation.

“Look!” Luna interrupts Harry talking about something to do with work. “Nanny, let me show you this dance we learned for our grad-oo-ation!”

Luna proceeds to perform for them; kicking her legs out and waving her arms wildly with no discernible pattern or rhythm, throwing her hands down on her hips and wiggling her bum, straightening up and shaking her hips to the left and to the right. With jazz hands, she spins round in circles then falls to the floor unceremoniously, all the while grunting out a tune that doesn’t seem to fit with her dance moves.

“When you come to my grad-oo-ation, Nanny, you will see me do the dance proper!” She says, scrambling back to her feet, pink cheeked and looking pleased with herself. They clap her half-heartedly and Harry hopes the downstairs neighbours don’t mind the sneak preview of Luna’s ‘dance’.

“I can’t wait!” Anne says to Luna, and then turns back to Harry. “I can’t believe that’ll be the end of preschool! It doesn’t seem five minutes ago we were taking her for her first day!”

Harry remembers creeping in to the preschool with his mum and barely three year old Luna, his heart tight behind his ribs and his eyes only just dry from a bout of nervous tears in the car.

“Don’t remind me. I don’t want to think about the fact she is getting older!”

“I miss the baby sometimes but she’s so much fun now.” Anne says, and Harry has to agree. Having a newborn was difficult, he much preferred Luna now she could communicate her needs and wants and not just squawk at him until she was red in the face. “Just imagine, taking her for her first day at school! You’ll be beside yourself.”

“You’ll be there won’t you?” Harry asks immediately.

“I’ll be there for as long as you need me, lovey.” Anne smiles warmly. “Are you gonna miss preschool, Luna?” Anne asks, distracting the little girl from the precarious tower of plastic play food pieces she is building on her drawing desk.

“I will miss my friends.” Luna says, her green eyes widening and she looks worried.

“Well, Jack and Madison are in your class, aren’t they? Plus, you will make loadsa new friends because big school has a lot more people in than preschool.” Harry supplies, his heart hurting immediately when he sees her face crumple.

“Do you promise I make new friends?” Luna asks, clambering to her feet and dashing over to him. She stands between his knees and grips the hem of his t-shirt tight, her eyes burning into him.

“Of course, baby.”

“Will I go back after the summer ‘olidays?”

“No, babe, you’ll be at big school then, remember? No more preschool.”

“What, no more ever?”

“No babe, not after the graduation.”  Anne says, and Luna looks at her, wide eyes still bulging.  “It’s an exciting new time, and everyone has to move on to new things, Lune. There’s nothing to be frightened about, you’re my bravest little Luna Flower.”

*

Whether it’s the emotional wringer he's been through that evening, or his late night last night, or a combination of the two, he falls asleep before 10pm with a good night text from Louis.

*

Texting Gemma on Friday and asking her if she'll pick Luna up and have her for an hour or two feels dishonest - mainly because it is - but he's doing it anyway. He asks Gemma rather than his mum because Gemma and James are far less likely to run into Mikey and inadvertently find out that they didn't all volunteer to work late because they were so close to finishing the first block of gardens.

They actually do overrun by about ten minutes, and Mikey eyes him suspiciously when he doesn’t make for the van at the eventual close of play, but lets it go without too much fuss. Embroiled in a web of lies, Harry has about an hour to wait for Louis but by the time everyone has gone and he's been for a wee in the portaloo, changed into the (only marginally) less filthy trackies in the bottom of his rucksack and washed the mud off his face, it's only about half an hour.

He loiters around the building site, making his way slowly towards the main road once he hears the last of the rattling old dumper trucks and cement mixers pulling away from the site. The walk to the main road only takes about five minutes - less than, probably - so there is more waiting around. He looks left up the road, assuming that's the direction Louis will come from, and when he finally spies the familiar black car zooming down the road towards him, he feels relief.

That soon goes, though.

Louis' car is immaculate inside and out, despite the late 2014 number plate making it not quite brand new anymore. The seats are black leather and the dashboard is clutter and dust free, a 'new car' air freshener hangs from the rear view mirror and the carpets don’t need vacuuming.

"Sorry for the state of..." Harry trundles off, motioning over the dried cement splatters and rips in the knees of his chalky Adidas tracksuit bottoms that used to be navy blue. He sits down and pulls the door to. "There's nothing that will leave a mark."

"It’s fine," Louis says with a small smile. Harry feels like he's being electrocuted for every second that Louis' eyes linger on him. He looks fucking radiant in his blue polo shirt and black jeans that haven't faded to dark grey yet. "How was your day?"

"Oh, just alright. Same old, same old. You?"

"Much the same." Louis says, nodding almost undetectably and still not taking his eyes off him. "Fu- c'mere." Louis leans over the hand brake and Harry is pulled into his energy field like attracting magnets. The kiss Louis gives him is chaste and perhaps not at the best angle, but he doesn't seem to care and neither does Harry.

"C'mon, let's go home." Louis says roughly against his lips before settling back in his seat and pushing the gearstick across into first gear.

Your home, not mine, Harry thinks to himself, but honestly, why is he even bothering with the distinction?

*

Harry knocks a chrome caddy of cooking utensils off the worktop as Louis sucks him off against the kitchen unit. Louis pauses momentarily, mouth still firmly locked around Harry, assesses the scene to find there is no damamge, and carries on.

"Sorry..." Harry tries to murmur, and he takes the 'mmm' from low in Louis' throat as an acceptance of his apology.

He'd been trying to find something to steady himself; Louis really bloody knows what he's doing and Harry, going blind with desire, needs to find something to grip onto. His palms are sliding over the worktop as he tries feebly. He's almost crying out, bucking his hips into Louis' face as he silently begs for the boy to suck him down whole and give his engorged, oversensitive head a chance to recover.

Louis does, however, no such thing. He flicks his tongue over and around Harry with such skill and accuracy that Harry really can't believe he's hitting the right spot with every lick. "Fuckin' hell, Lou... shit, yeah!"

Louis' small but nimble hands ghost over his exposed thighs, pressing hard and firm into the flesh, the tips of his fingers curling aorund his hips and digging in as he finally sinks Harry right down to the back of his throat. The tip of his nose and the scratch of the scruff on his chin brushes over Harry's skin as Louis deep throats him repeatedly, as if its no issue.

"I'm gonna come," He says curtly, quickly as he feels the rise inside him. Louis holds him on the flat, warmth of his tongue as he comes down his throat, two maybe three steady, thick and euphoric ribbons. Harry's vision goes blank as he comes and he drops backwards onto his elbows, the ache of his back that is crying out to him the least of his concerns as he slumps against the unit.

With his joggers still around his ankles, he continues to rut his hips into nothing as Louis unfurls to his full height and presses his body into his, chests and torsos pressed together. With his own taste still fresh on Louis' tongue, something Harry was loath to admit he bloody loved, their lips crash together and they breathlessly whine into each other insatiably.

Harry's hands drop to the button on Louis' skinnies as they kiss, and after only minimal struggling to get them undone, he lifts Louis out of his jeans and leads him all the way to orgasm with his hand. Louis' come is on his stomach and on his hand.

Opening his eyes, Louis looks down between them, his cock bobbing freely as Harry lets it go. "'Ang on," Louis reaches for the nearest tea towel and wipes them down crudely, Harry holding his soiled hand out flat for Louis. With a soft snort, he mumbles, "I’ll throw this one out..."

“Yeah…” Harry agrees as Louis does his best to clean them up, the mess he is trying to make disappear going cold on Harry’s skin.

“Sorry, I know that was a thoroughly unsanitary thing to do in a kitchen. I’ll make sure I clean the place vigorously before I cook you a nice three course meal.”

 _Three course dinners aren’t casual,_ Harry argues silently.

“You can’t cook anyway.” He reminds Louis, who snorts loudly, unexpectedly.

“That’s very true. Guess you’re safe for now, then.” Louis says.

Harry feels profoundly embarrassed as he bends down to pull his bottoms back up; Louis turns his back on him and when he turns back round he has put himself back together too.

“Are you hungry?” Louis asks. “Thirsty? Tired?”

“’m always tired,” Harry says as Louis rests against the kitchen counter and holds out a hand. With only a second’s hesitation, he takes Louis’ hand and lets him pull him intro an embrace. Louis presses his hips into Harry’s and leans back slightly to look at him properly. Harry knows that he would taste his own salty come on Louis’ tongue if they kissed right now.

“My poor love,” Louis says softly, closing the gap between them and resting his cheek on Harry’s chest. Harry hopes Louis doesn’t feel him stiffen.

_Love._

_My_ poor _love_.

He knows this is probably just a simple term of endearment. He’s heard Louis refer to almost _everyone_ as love, from his mum to his work colleagues to the lady in the petrol station. It hardly singles Harry out. His heart picks up and he is acutely aware of Louis’ proximity to his chest. He imagines the rapid thump of his ticker against Louis’ cheek. Harry is aware that he thinks Louis might have said something else, but he wasn’t listening.

“Sorry, uh, I was…”

“Daydreaming?” Louis asks, lifting his head up. “Don't worry, it was nothing important.”

Harry nods. “I’ve got about half an hour; it’ll take me about twenty minutes to get to Gem’s house.”

“I can drive you, it’s no trouble.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t want you to feel like a taxi service.”

“I don’t, Haz. I like spending time with you.”

Oh God, there it is. “I honestly don’t mind the walk.”

“Are you hiding me away?” Louis asks, only half joking it seems.

“No!” Harry says quickly but maybe a bit weakly. “I just… I like the walk. Gives me time to clear me ‘ead.”

Louis looks at him for a moment, lips pursed into a straight line. Slowly, he nods, refocuses his eyes and says, “Okay…”

There is a bit of a palpable silence in the kitchen for a few moments and Harry reaches out to touch Louis’ bare arm, the other boy stilling and looking at the point where Harry’s fingers touch his arm. “Sorry?”

“S’alright.” Louis says, almost undetectably. Almost self-deprecatingly, he adds, “Saves me petrol.”

Harry smirks silently and nods. God, now he feels bad. How can he fix this? “Hey, still got time to cuddle, right?”

Reluctantly and trying to bite his smile off the inside of his cheek, Louis nods and motions towards the kitchen door. Harry follows him through the door, two or three steps across the hallway and through the living room door into the bright room. Sunlight filters in through the window, shafts of warm rays illuminating strips on the beige carpet and across the sofa.

They fall into the middle of the sofa together, either side of the gap between the seat cushions. The slump of the springs underneath them, through years and years of use, means they kind of turn in to each other, Louis on the left pressed up against Harry’s side, Harry’s arm draped over the shoulders of the slightly smaller man.  Louis folds one leg over on itself and lets the other one reach the floor, nestled into Harry’s shoulder with his top arm draped casually over his tummy, the very tips of his fingers wedged under Harry’s hip to keep them in place.

Harry’s heart calms back down and his breathing returns to normal. Feeling the effects of a few late nights and busy days at work, he feels his eyes grow heavy. He tilts his head marginally to the left and rests his head on Louis’, his temple to the top of Louis’ head. His hair smells like citrus, not the tingly mint Harry had grown used to over the last few weeks or so. He must be using a new shampoo. Harry hates that he notices things like this. He knows what noticing things like this means.

“Haz?” He hears his name, all raspy and hazy, but he’s too near to the brink of sleep to answer.

*

The vibration of his phone in his pocket wakes him.

Wakes them.

“Wh- what’re you, huh?” Louis mumbles incoherently as Harry jolts awake.

“It’s Gem, my Gemma.” He stutters, stopping that horrendous buzzing and putting his phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Harry! It’s almost eight o’clock love, are you almost finished work?" Gemma sounds brisk and a bit concerned.

“Oh, uh, God I fell asleep.” Harry says the first thing that comes into his sleep-addled brain, despite the fact he had commandeered Gemma into babysitting under the guise that he was working overtime.

“Asleep? At work?”

“Uh, not asleep, I mean uh, I was just cleaning off me boots.”

“Where are you? You don’t sound like you’re outside.” Gemma asks, dubiously.

“I’m not, I’m in the cabin.” Harry lies, climbing off Louis’ sofa and trying to remember where he’d toed off said boots. By the front door, obviously. “Look, can you give me…” He looks at Louis apologetically, who nods. “Ten minutes? We’ll be, I’ll be there.”

“Alright kid, see you soon.”

“ _Shit!_ ” Harry exhales to Louis, chucking his phone back in his pocket and blustering into the hallway to gather his rucksack and get his boots on. “Urgh, I hate rushing!”

“Calm down, love.” Louis instructs, grabbing his car keys from the little bowl on the unit in the hallway and pushing his feet into slip on Vans. “Get your stuff and we’ll get in the car. We’ll be there in no time.”

*

When Harry bursts through Gemma’s front door twenty minutes later, it’s to deathly silence. He throws his bag down and makes for the living room, an apology on the tip of his tongue when he sees Gemma sitting with her legs crossed on the sofa, Luna's body draped over the sofa cushion next to her with her head in her lap, eyes closed and mouth slightly open, pink cheeks and relaxed features.

“I’m sorry, Gem.” He says softly on an out breath, his chest restricting at the sight.

“It’s alright, H.” She whispers, waving a hand dismissively.

Harry sinks down onto the two seater sofa on the opposite side of the room and holds his head in his hands. His breathing is still erratic and he wills himself to calm down. He's here now, Luna is safe, everything is fine.

"Who was ‘at that dropped you off?” Gemma asks, and damn that girl really doesn’t miss a trick.

“One of the site managers.” Harry says, thinking quickly. Posh car, site manager, that sounds believable. “Gave me a lift.”

“Alright,” Gemma nods but she still looks quizzical. “Well, I gave Lune tea. Pasta bake; she said she’d had pasta yesterday too, so uh, sorry about that.”

“It’s alright,” Harry says, still trying to return his breathing to normal. “Thanks.”

“No problem. She’s been out for about… ten minutes? I tried to keep her awake but she couldn’t wait up any longer for you.” Gemma says, flashing a wicked, teasing grin at Harry.

“Thanks, as if I don’t feel bad enough as it is.” Harry replies, silently flipping off his big sister. “I’d better wake her up. I can’t carry her all the way home.”

“Don’t be silly, H, I’ll take you home.”

Harry doesn’t argue with that. He gathers all Luna’s stuff up first, loads it into the back seat of Gemma’s car, then scoops his daughter up into his arms. She mumbles something unintelligible and wraps her arms tight around him as her eyes flicker open and closed immediately.

“It’s alright babe.” He coos softly into her hair as she whimpers. “We’re going home now.”

Luna’s head lolls the moment Harry puts her in her car seat and she stays asleep right through the journey and up the stairs into the flat and into her bed. Harry changes her bottom half into her pyjamas and kisses her sweaty forehead, pushing back her curls.

“I love you angel.”

*

Harry sends Louis an apology text and then vows to try and whittle down the amount of time they spend together in the coming week.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so this was re-written twice, hence the delay but I think this is the best it could be and the story arc is going good. I anticipate 3 more chapters!
> 
> I hope you enjoy. Please let me know!
> 
> Much love!
> 
> Tumblr: mummyamy10


	5. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another one that underwent a major re-write at the eleventh hour, hence a bit of a delay. Nevertheless, hope you enjoy.

Harry’s plan to avoid Louis a bit that week ends up going horribly wrong. On Monday at pick up time, he’d seen Louis who had given him a soft ‘hi love’. On Tuesday he’d got a smile, and a confused look on Wednesday when Harry had scurried out of the classroom with Luna without raising his head.

Louis’ texts grow more and more cautious in line with Harry’s declining social interaction, and as the week progresses Harry doesn’t know how to rectify things. All he does know is that he wants Louis’ attention back. _Needs_ it. It scares him; the realisation that he could well be on the brink of not being able to pull Louis back, and losing him _isn’t_ what he wants. Louis stopped asking if he wanted to meet up, or asking when he was free, and their conversations felt sterile, like they were just a formality that had no impact on the future of their lives, individually or as a couple.

_‘Are you okay? How was your day? x’_

_‘Yeah, it was good cheers.’_

Their last conversation had been left like that, Louis not wanting to reciprocate, clearly. Their interaction was inconclusive and cold. Harry found it cruelly ironic that he’d driven Louis away just as he was coming to realise that maybe he liked this boy and wanted him around for a while. Work was difficult for the rest of the week, and on Thursday he doesn’t hear from Louis _at all_. No matter how many times he stops to take his phone out of his pocket and stare at the cracked screen, there was never a little red ‘1’ with a message from Louis.

He thumbs into his contacts and touches Louis’ name, looking at the little sunshine emoji that is mocking him now. He thinks about when he’d added Louis’ name to his contacts; maybe he could blame heatstroke, it had been hot that day at the park and he’d been out in the sun all day. He goes to ‘edit’ and takes the sunshine out. Replaces it with the big red X emoji, then stares at it for a while. He takes the whole thing out and replaced it with ‘Luna’s teacher’. That feels wrong, he exits without saving and the entry returns to how it was before. He hovers his thumb over the rubbish bin and a prompt comes up, ‘Are you sure you want to delete this contact?’.

No, he isn’t sure. He is very _un_ sure of what he wants, but he can’t bring himself to delete Louis’ number. He reasons with himself that even if he did, their text messages would still sit in his inbox, he could get the number from there. He could probably even remember it by heart by now. It ends in -018, he knows that, and he could probably memorise the other eight numbers quite easily, he is a smart lad.

When he looks up from his phone for the fourth time in the space of half an hour, he catches Mikey’s eye and he has a feeling he might be busted.

“Hazza, coming out for a pint on Saturday evening? Can you get someone to watch the babe?” For all of Mikey’s bravado, Harry feels the concerned, caring look his friend eyes him with and he feels compelled to agree. It really has been too long, and it might cheer him up.

“Yeah, I’ll check with my mum.” Harry says, sure that it won’t be a problem. He ignores the look in Mikey’s eye that wants more information, and does his very best not to look at his phone again for the rest of the day.

That resolve lasts about half an hour.

He doesn’t see Louis when he goes to pick Luna up and he’d prepared himself for that the whole way there but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with. Luna is downtrodden too when she comes traipsing out with a piece of paper decorated with macaroni shapes covered in blue glitter and green paint.

“Alright, baby?” He asks in a voice he almost doesn’t recognise. She nods forlornly and waits as he collects her backpack and signs her out. “What’s up?”

“Tired,” Luna says simply, and she walks out of the corridor in front of him with her shoulders hunched.

He follows her and grabs hold of her hand as she stands by the door waiting for him to reach the door handle. “What’s up, Luna Flower?”

“Daddy, do I have to go to another family when I get big because I don’t have a mummy?”

“No love,” Harry says immediately. He feels prickles of heat and unease spring up on his skin. “Why would you think that?”

“Am I allowed to stay with you forever, even though you’re a boy and I’m a girl?”

“Of course you are babe, until you are old enough to get your own house or flat.”

“And I don’t have to go somewhere where there is a mummy?”

“No, definitely not. You live with me, you aren’t going anywhere. Who told you that, Lune?”

“No-one,” Luna says, dropping her gaze back down.

“Where did you get that idea from, Luna Rose-Anne?”

“Joshua said it to me.”

“When?” Harry snaps immediately.

“Today.” Luna replies, quite as a mouse. “I told ‘im it weren’t true Daddy but he said that I couldn’t live with you when I’m growed up because you’re a boy and I’m a girl.”

Harry stops walking and pulls Luna back. He drops onto one knee and pulls her in close to him. She peers back at him with worry troubling her round green eyes. “Luna, you will _never_ have to not live with me, okay babe? Until you’re big enough and you want to get your own house. It’s been just me and you for five years nearly, and you haven’t needed a mummy. You don’t need one now or ever. I will get you everything you’ll ever need, okay?”

Luna nods although Harry isn’t sure that she feels completely reassured. He gives her a squeeze and whispers ‘I love you’ in her ear, before they carry on home.

*

He can’t get Luna’s words out of his head as he lies in bed that evening trying to get to sleep. Rain beats down heavily on the window pane and he can’t block out what Luna had said. When he thinks about it, he supposes they’re lucky to have made it so far without someone mentioning a lack of mother figure in Luna’s life. He’d never felt the void needed filling; he’d never met a girl that would ever come close to being good enough for Luna.

He was doing fine raising her alone. He’d never thought about _anyone_ coming into their lives until maybe _very_ recently, but that doesn’t matter now because Harry messed things up before they’d even happened. There was no point in thinking about it.

He’d been trying to ignore his phone for the last half an hour, trying to blank it out but it’s no good. With an irritated little huff he reaches over and pulls the charger out of the end. He curls over onto his side in the foetal position and stares at the illuminated screen in the dark until it stings his eyes.

He stares at Louis’ message thread as if he’d magically find the answer to his problems in there. Whether he’d accepted it or not, his mind clearly went straight to Louis when he was feeling down. His automatic first choice when he needs someone is Louis. _Why_ did this have to happen? _Why_ did he think ignoring Louis would make this problem go away? If anything, it’s just exacerbated it. He’s going crazy and using words like ‘ _exacerbate_ ’, for God sake.

Harry realises on Friday that it’s the thirteenth and he pretty much accepts that he shouldn’t do _anything_ today that isn’t entirely one hundred percent necessary because it will only end in tears. He double checks left and right twice each way before letting Luna step off the kerb, and keeps one eye on how much attention the driver is paying on the way to the site.

Building sites are dangerous at the best of times, but he figures they’re even worse on Friday the Thirteenth. He doesn’t wish to tempt fate at all.

Luckily, he makes it to midnight on Friday the Thirteenth unscathed. And, without seeing Louis.

*

When Harry had asked his mum if she minded having Luna on the Saturday night, he’d _just_ managed to stop the ‘I haven’t seen them for a while’ from rolling off his tongue, because of course, as far as anyone else is concerned, he’d been out with them just last week. She had agreed, though.

It’s bloody hot, unseasonably hot for England, even in mid-July, so he goes for a thin white round neck t-shirt and his dark grey chino shorts. There are bare legs and bare arms everywhere he looks, t-shirt tans and nasty red looking strips of sunburnt flesh.

After throwing a paltry fiver in to the middle for the first round, he sits with Danny, Matt and Connor while Mikey and Jamie go to the bar. All three light up cigarettes which Harry declines. It’s like sitting with a dry ice machine as he listens to their conversations and desperately awaits his beer arriving.

When the other two and the beers arrive, Mikey slides in next to Harry and the lubrication of alcohol on their conversation makes things a lot easier. A lot of what Matt, Jamie and Conor talk about is foreign to Harry, but he can just about get the gist of a rather debaucherous tale of sin on the bathroom floor of Matt and Conor’s flat, involving a young lady Harry is sure is _delightful_ but is forever referred to as ‘blonde thingy with the big tits’.

With empty glasses scattered around the table top, round number two arrives and the questions start.

“Haz, _where_ have you’ve been these past few weeks mate?” Jamie asks, and Harry has an immediate, graphic flashback to his blowjob in the kitchen from Louis.

“Uh, just working y’know?” Harry answers, but crap! Mikey works with him. Must elaborate. “Luna’s finishing preschool soon, wants her room painted, that kinda thing.”

“Who’s Luna?” Conor asks, even though they’ve been through this before.

“Harry’s daughter.” Mikey answers, pulling out his phone to show Conor and Matt a picture of Luna and himself on his phone. Harry smiles warmly at Mikey’s Proud Uncle-ness. “She’s a dream, honestly.”

“Where’s her mum?”

“Lads…” Mikey warns sternly.

“Nah, it’s alright.” Harry says, waving a hand precariously close to his pint. “She gave her up to me when she was born. She’s not around.”

It’s the simplest answer. It doesn’t vouch for the heartache, the learning, the humiliation and the anger that came with single parenting as a teenager. Mikey knows the full story, but this abridged version will do in the company of these acquaintances. They peer back at him, a lovely mix of confused and unimpressed.

“Anyway!” Mikey claps breezily, a table of girls looking over at them with the commotion. _Not today,_ Harry thinks to himself as he pictures how this evening is going to go.

Mikey ushers him to the bar to get round number three in. “Everythin’ alright, kid?” He asks as they lean against the wooden bar, sandwiched between groups of friends everywhere. The place is rammed.

“Yeah yeah, all good.” Harry says vaguely, hoping he is being at least a little reassuring.

“Everything alright at home?”

“Yeah, man. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Dunno, just seem… different. You got yourself a missus you ‘aven’t told us about?” Mikey laughs and Harry laughs back rigidly.

“No, haven’t got time for a girlfriend, mate!” Harry says dismissively. He _hates_ himself.

He drowns his sorrows in his third pint of Fosters and feels the overwhelming need to text Louis. As tactfully as he can, he takes his phone out of his pocket, lowers the screen brightness right down and leans back slightly on the bench. He knows what he wants to say but he doesn’t know how to say it.

_‘What are you doing? I wanna go home x’_

_’Where are you? x’_

_’Lou?’_

“Boring you, are we?” Jamie asks with a careless chortle that pierces through Harry’s subconscious.

“No, sorry.” Harry mumbles, locking his phone screen and looking over the crowds to the sign marked ‘toilets’. “Back in a sec.”

Mikey watches him as he gets up and for a horrible second he suspects he might follow him to the loos. Thankfully, he doesn't. He blocks out everything around him, inching his way around obstacles until he reaches the door. He pushes it open; it’s heavy and solid and the ‘men’ plaque on the door is tarnished and covered in fingerprints.

He crashes into a stall, not even stopping to notice if there is anyone else in the room with him. He collapses against the wall and brings his arms up, crossing them over his face and digging his forehead into his forearm. He lets out the strangled, irritated sigh that he’s been keeping inside.

He gets his phone from his pocket before he can talk himself out of it and opens up Louis’ thread. His last message makes him feel sick, three whole days ago. His only other recent contacts are his mum and Domino’s pizza text alerts; and if that doesn’t say a lot about Harry as a person, he doesn’t know what does.

With much more headstrong bravado than he actually has, Harry presses the little telephone icon at the top of Louis’ thread and waits as the steady buzz of the dial tone connects him to his… to his, to Louis. The phone rings, and rings and rings.

“Hiya,” Louis answers finally, just as Harry was about to give up. Soft and fuzzy around the edges, Harry is relieved to hear Louis’ voice.

“Hey,” Harry says with a deep breath, relieved to finally hear his voice. He stays in agonising silence for a moment as Louis falls into silence, then he hears the tail end of a hearty yawn. “Did I wake you up?”

“It’s alright,” Louis says quickly; he is flat and monotone and Harry _tries_ to tell himself it’s only because he’s just woken up. “I just fell asleep watching telly. What’s up?”

“Uh, nothing, just…” _Oh hell, this is all going wrong._ “What’re you doing?”

“Watching telly,” Louis says again with a soft chuckle and Harry is too fuddled in his mind to hate himself for asking a question Louis had already answered. “Have you gone out?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, almost sadly. “I don’t wanna be here.”

“Why did you go out then?” Louis asks, and it feels eerily, icily cold.

“I, I thought it’d be a good idea.” He says, so timidly and to quietly that he doesn’t recognise it himself and he wouldn’t be surprised if Louis missed it completely.

“And was it?” Louis still sounds terse.

“No,” Harry admits, letting out a large breath to try and make some room in his ballooning lungs that feel so full he’s uncomfortable. He doesn’t speak again for a moment, just listens to his own breathing and Louis shuffling about on the other end of the phone. He’s probably on the sofa, maybe in a blanket, exactly where Harry wants to be.

“You’ll be okay.” Louis tells him, and he’s so unfocussed he doesn’t know what to make of that. “Why did you phone me, Harry?”

“There’s… there are people everywhere that I don’t know and people tryin’ to talk t’me and I hate it, Lou, I hate it. I don’t wanna, I don’t wanna be here anymore, I can’t-”

“Harry!” Louis’ voice sounds clearer than it ever has before. “It’s alright, don’t panic. Don’t panic. Look, d’you want me to come and get you?” Harry is nodding miserably into his phone, not even remembering that Louis can’t see him. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes please,” He says in a tiny voice.

“What time? Tell me where you are, Haz.”

Harry explains the pub and Louis arranges to get him at half eleven. He talks him down from his mild panic in about five minutes and encourages him to go back and enjoy the rest of his evening, reassuring him that half eleven isn’t too late for him to wait.

“No, half eleven is fine, Haz. See you later on?”

“Yeah,” Harry says softly. “I… yeah, see you later.”

He presses the end call button and holds his phone against his chest, thinking for a moment that drowning himself in a urinal would be better than this. He unbolts the stall door and slips out, adopting tunnel vision again to avoid anyone else in his proximity until he is back at the table.

There is a fresh beer in his place and he silently thanks whoever put it there. Someone, probably Jamie from the way he sits longingly hanging off the every word of a pretty brown haired girl, has dragged the girls from the opposite table over and so they’re crowded around the table like sardines now. Harry slips back in to his original seat between Mikey and Jamie and does his best to ignore the girls.

He can feel eyes on him, bloody Mikey and his troublesome meddling. The laughter and jokey banter is rife around the table, Matt laughing raucously at something Conor said, attracting the attention of all three girls around the table. They’re all smoking again and Harry feels the need to tap Mikey lightly on the leg and silently request a cigarette too.

He narrows his eyes to shield from the bluish grey shadows of cigarette smoke that permeate the air around him, his heart sinking as one of the girls catches his eye. He smiles politely and gives her a sort of strange half-wave with his hand before taking a long drag on his cigarette. He and Conor both reach out the tap their ash into the ashtray at the same time.

The beginnings of a rain storm move them inside the pub just after 9pm. The sun was just starting to shrink away from the horizon and it was getting a bit cold so it was probably for the best. The girls trot in behind them, Harry’s brunette taking the seat next to him and Jamie with his harem (well, the other two) sit together too.

“Hi, I’m Cassie.” She introduces herself, fiddling with the straw that is spinning aimlessly inside her strawberry and lime Kopparberg. She seems nice enough, jeans, a little jacket and plenty of cleavage on show. Her hair looks darker in this light and she has freckles on her nose not covered with makeup. _That’s refreshing,_ Harry thinks.

“Hiya Cassie, I’m Harry.” He replies awkwardly. “You having a nice night? Or at least until my weirdo friends found you an’ your friends.”

“Yeah, having a good time!” She says, drinking up a mouthful from her straw. “Think your friend has taken a bit of a shining to Katie.”

Harry follows where Cassie is pointing to, where Jamie and this girl who presumably is Katie are sitting so close their bodies are practically welded together, Jamie hanging on her every word and her smile bright and sunshine-like.

“Hmm, yeah. Poor girl!” Harry deadpans, and Cassie laughs, her laugh a bit too high pitched and attention seeking for Harry’s taste.

“So, Harry, what do you do?”

“Uh, I’m a builder.”

“Oh, that’s why you’re so tanned! Always outside!”

“Uh, yeah, that’s right.” Harry wouldn’t have made that connection himself, but alright. He tries to be friendly but every word this girl speaks is like nails down a blackboard. “What about you?”

“I work in a recruitment agency. Office Angels, I don’t know if you’ve seen it in town?” Cassie says, and Harry thinks that the name might be _slightly_ familiar but he doesn’t dwell too hard on trying to place it in his memory. Cassie is still prattling on and under other circumstances on any other day, he might be mildly interested but today isn’t that time or the circumstance.

He slides his phone out of his shorts pocket to check the time. He slides his index finger up the cracked glass and waits for the ancient old thing to spring into life. It pauses on the lock screen for a second before finally springing into action.

22:13

 _Not long now,_ he thinks as he absentmindedly stares at his picture of Luna.

“Aw, cute little girl, is that your sister?” Cassie asks, enthusiastically.

“Uh, no that’s my daughter.” Harry says proudly, and he actually feels Cassie’s body move away from his.

“Oh, uh! Wow, um God, I didn’t, you don’t seem the type to…” She doesn’t finish her sentence and Harry wonders whether there was special makeover session he should have attended after Luna was born.

“Oh, well, that’s awkward ‘cause I definitely am.” Harry says, feeling perturbed now, and half eleven can’t come soon enough. _I’ve also started to very recently think I could quite possibly fall in love with a dude,_ Harry thinks, as if he’d _ever_ have the balls to say it out loud.

Cassie unfolds the leg that she had folded over towards Harry and folds the opposite leg over so her lower half is angled slightly away from him. Unbothered, Harry reaches for his beer and necks a good half of it, taking Jamie’s bag of salt and vinegar while he wasn’t looking and taking a handful. God, he’s going to stink this evening; smoke, beer and salt and vinegar. Winning combination.

“Alright, bud?” Mikey leans across the table to ask him. Harry isn’t sure because it all happened so fast, but he’s sure Mikey’s eyes flickered over Cassie with a look as if to say ‘no good’.

“Yeah, fine.”

“Comin’ over the shops to get some fags, H?” He asks, seeing that desperate little flare in Mikey’s eyes again. Harry gets it.

“Yeah, sure. ‘Scuse me, Cass.” He says, side stepping his way past Cassie without much actual concern for treading on her toes.

The rain has subsided outside and the pavement is dark with moisture. Mikey walks fast, always has, and Harry has to work to keep up with him. They head across the pub car park, over the road and up to the next corner where there is a Co-Op open until 11pm.

“You alright mate, you look like you’re ‘bout to jump outta your skin all night.”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just…”

“Tired?” Mikey says in anticipation, rolling his eyes as if he is not convinced. “Luna going through a spell?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s coming up to the summer holidays and she’s freaking out about school a bit.” Harry lies. Luna had had that one little blip where she realised she wasn’t going back to preschool after the holidays, but she’d hardly been ‘freaking out’.

“Poor lass,” Mikey muses as they step off the kerb. Mikey goes first and for a second Harry’s height advantage is added to. “She’ll be alright, won’t she?”

“Yeah, probably. I think it’s just going to take some getting used to.” Harry runs his finger around the edge of the chewing gum stand as Mikey stands waiting for the shopkeeper to serve him twenty Marlboro’s. “She doesn’t like when things change.”

Mikey hums and Harry hopes that the interruption by the shopkeeper will save Harry from having to answer any more questions with lies. Mikey gets his cigarettes and together they trundle back in the direction of the pub.

“I know something isn’t right, Haz.” Mikey says firmly, almost unexpectedly as they cross over the road. He offers him a cigarette but he waves a hand in declination. “Not sure what’s going on but… is everythin’ alright? With Luna, with you?”

“Yeah, there’s nothin’ going on, Mike, it’s just everything changing. It’s hard.”

“Is someone giving you a hard time?” Mikey asks.

If Harry wasn’t so bloody miserable, he might laugh at the hidden innuendo that Mikey had no idea he was making. However, he just shrugs and shakes his head. He can’t even muster a smile. He thinks about telling Mikey. It would be easier. He thinks he can trust him. “No, not at all. It’s fine.”

He senses Mikey turn to look at him as they walk but he doesn’t dare look up. He’s sure Mikey isn’t convinced. They continue the last two minutes of the journey in silence, and as they approach the door, Harry impulsively reaches out for Mikey’s arm.

“I’m going at half eleven. Come to the bar with me just before, then I can sneak out. Can’t face this.” He says, staring so hard at a point just over Mikey’s shoulder that his eyes go blurry. He can see Mikey all distorted in his periphery looking concerned but amenable.

“Alright mate, no worries. C’mon, let’s get back.”

Harry isn’t surprised and is _very_ relieved to find Cassie has moved across the table to sit with her two friends. He sits next to Mikey and does his best to relax back into the atmosphere and enjoy this for what it is; time off with his friends. He doesn’t think about what the hell could have happened to his drink while he was gone, and takes a sip. It’s gone flat in the twenty plus minutes that he’s been out, and he muses that the beer feels like he does.

He’s relieved to see that it’s now creeping close to 11pm and he’s entering his last half an hour here. He shares a laugh with the boys over a story Jamie and Matt are telling between them, the girls hanging off Jamie’s arm and his every word. He knows when to give a cursory laugh at the right moment and when to bark out an agreement with whatever is being said, but he literally is not even listening. The odd word creeps into his subconscious but all he can think about it Louis and half past eleven and getting out of here.

He checks his phone and its 23:17. God, it’s so close he is practically itching with anticipation. His stomach lurches as he sees Mikey and Jamie (who manages to tear himself away from his gaggle of girls long enough to go to the bar) stand up from the table and start making their way over to the bar. He jumps out of his seat too, catching up to Mikey and grabbing his shoulders from behind, allowing himself to be lead towards the bar.

“I’m getting off now,” He tells them, jerking his head towards the door.

“What did you do to scare off Carrie?” Jamie asks, ignoring Harry’s last statement. He feels confused for a moment, before he realises.

“ _Cassie_. Her name is Cassie.”

“Oh,” Jamie says, unaffected. “She was all over you, now she’s all over me. Not that I mind but what did you say?”

“Nothing!” Harry replies, feeling defensive. Jamie can have her, as far as Harry is concerned. “I told her about Luna. She backed right off, as usual. I’m gonna get off now, anyway.”

He shares a knowing look with Jamie and nods curtly. He makes a step towards the door before Jamie commandeers him again. “That boys’ getting laid on the regular, he’s got himself a sure thing, I know it!” Jamie says to Mikey, who doesn’t exactly match Jamie’s enthusiasm but gives a sort of smile and Harry knows Mikey is questioning him.

“Wouldn’t you sad fuckers like to know!” Harry manages to crack a smile and he jabs Jamie in the kidney, causing him to fall forward into the bar. The barman looks at them with furrowed, angry brows and Mikey laughs. “Right, see ya kid, see you Monday, Mike.”

“Yeah, see ya Haz, take care.”

He allows himself to be slapped on the back and cheered by a rather raucous Jamie. He leaves the pub to well wishes for his night of passion from Jamie, a lot of it too crude to _ever_ be repeated.

Out in the open air, away from the drunken clamour and ding-ding of fruit machines and the jukebox, he feels better. He’s a few minutes early, but he sees Louis’ car parked under a street light in the corner of the car park. He feels conspicuous, like he should check over his shoulder before setting off across the car park. He doesn’t, however, because that would be ridiculous. No one cares about his whereabouts _that_ much, God.

Harry can see the light from Louis’ phone inside the car. The interior light in Louis’ car drenches them in harsh light as soon as Harry opens the passenger door. He gets in without saying a word. He doesn’t look directly at Louis, like the sunshine that he is, but sees him sitting rigidly in the driver’s seat, knees together and facing him but body not facing him. It feels like only a very small victory.

“Hi,” He says eventually, no warmth, no affection, no ‘love’ or ‘Haz’ or even plain old ‘H’.

“Hey,” Harry says back, lifting his eyes to look properly at Louis for the first time, with a deep breath. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

“It’s alright,” Louis says shortly. He reaches out to adjust the rear view mirror and Harry flinches. “Calm down, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Sorry,” Harry apologises, feeling pathetic. “I know that.”

“Did you have a good night?” Louis asks, and he _knows_ Harry hasn’t had a good night, why is he asking that?

“Uh, no not really.” Harry says. He feels so confused and pathetic.

“Do you want me to take you home or…?” Louis trundles off as if he is giving Harry the option to suggest somewhere else to go, but Harry doesn’t get the impression that that’s quite what Louis is doing. “Do you have somewhere else to be?”

“Lou?” He asks quietly. “Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?” Louis asks, but Harry can’t form his reply before Louis speaks again. “I’m not being like anything, Harry; I’m just picking you up and asking you where you need to go. Like a taxi, really.”

“ _Louis_ ,” Harry says helplessly. Louis looks back at him blankly. His eyes aren’t really cold they’re just empty and almost uncaring. It hurts Harry to see Louis so hesitant after making so much effort with him for so long. He hadn’t thought it would ever come to this and it hurts Harry to think that _he_ did this to Louis. Made Louis so tired of him that he doesn’t even care anymore. “Can we go back to yours? Please?”

Louis looks at him like he wants to make another smart remark, but thankfully he doesn’t. He turns the key over in the ignition and the headlights come on automatically. Flat, monotone and tight, he mutters, “Alright.”

They drive home to Louis’ with absolute silence between them; if it wasn’t for Radio One playing quietly there’d be no noise at all. Harry watches the scenery whizz past the window, rows of houses, then big gaps of empty fields, and then build up town again, before the buildings and lights begin to filter out until it’s just a straight hedgerow-lined road with a street light every few hundred yards.

When the lights of the residential area begin to prick back up in the distance, Harry’s stomach constricts itself into knots again. They’re getting close now. Louis slows down and eventually drops down into fourth gear as they pass through the 30mph zone.

Louis still hasn’t said anything more since agreeing to drive them back to his house. Harry realises that he’s been tense and holding himself tight in his seat, worrying about moving or breathing wrong and ruining everything. He keeps his knees pointed away from Louis, holding his muscles rigidly so that he doesn’t sway over too close to Louis when the car takes a corner or slows down. He watches out the window, blurring his eyes so he can’t see his sorry reflection in the glass.

The route that they’re taking is the opposite way to how Harry has got here in the past, and Louis is pulling up to the kerb before Harry realises where they are. Louis gets out silently, slamming his door and walking round to the front door without waiting for Harry.

Harry feels helpless. He wants to run after Louis, grab his wrists and drop to his knees and just wrap his arms around his body, keep him from going _anywhere_. Hastily he closes the door on his side and Louis central locks the car without even looking round.

Louis is just stepping into the hallway as Harry catches up to him. Louis holds the door open a beat but it’s just beginning to swing closed as he steps into Louis’ home. Louis goes straight into the kitchen, not giving Harry an inch, and he sort of falters in the hallway for a moment, unsure if he should follow Louis or go to the front room or neither of the above. He hears the kettle start to boil and the fridge door open and close and Louis is making tea.

“You can sit down you know?” Louis’ voice says. Harry looks up to see him stood in the doorway between the hall and the kitchen, holding the carton of milk. No sooner do they make eye contact does Louis pass by the frame again. Despite this invitation, Harry is still stood stupidly in the middle of the hallway when Louis reappears with two cups of tea.

Harry takes that as a good sign and feels his heart do a hopeful little jig as Louis wordlessly jerks his head towards the living room door. He follows him through and sits in the seat Louis had left the other tea in front of, like assigned seating at the cinema. He is next to Louis but he feels a million miles away. The tea is perfect and Louis didn’t even need to ask how he took it. It’s so hot it almost scalps Harry’s throat, but he gulps down almost half of it in one go anyway, wanting a replacement for the beer that no longer feels like it was a good idea.

Harry looks down at the scatter cushions on the sofa, crumpled and misplaced. He notices the throw blanket balled up and strewn on the other sofa, and remembers he’d woken Louis up. He looks at Louis himself, all sleepy and soft around the sides with his hair flat, a round neck black jumper and Nike tracksuit bottoms.

“I’m sorry again for waking you up to come an’ get me.”

“Harry, I already said its fine.” Louis says, though it doesn’t sound fine. He’s sitting cross legged, stuffed into the corner of the end of the sofa, tea resting on his crossed ankles, cradled in his small hands. Once he’s reassured Harry unconvincingly, he goes back to staring blankly at some point on the floor.

Harry doesn’t feel reassured by this, at all. He doesn’t know where to go from here. He hadn’t formulated even the bare bones of a plan coming in here, and now he was floundering.

“I’m sorry, y’know, for cutting you out this week.”

“Yeah? Me too.” Louis replies flatly, and Harry feels winded by that. He doesn’t know what Louis means.

“I was a twat.” He says, more a statement than any advancement on the conversation. Louis doesn’t even flinch, just remains in an unhappy grimace as he continues to stare into space.

“Yeah, well, it happens don’t it?” Louis finally looks up. His blue eyes are weary and a steely grey with his disappointment. “Don’t worry. Just… forget about it.”

“I thought… I thought if I tried to put some space between us it’d be better in the long run. Like I could pull away from you and I’d stop thinking about you.” Harry mumbles, “And that it would all be okay and I could forget about you but-”

“Look, Harry, I don’t want to hear all this ‘I never meant to hurt you’ bullshit okay? Let’s just end things properly so we can both move on?”

“Is that what you want?” Harry asks, coiling up, voice tiny.

“No, honestly it isn’t, but if that’s what you’ve come here to do then just get on with it, please?” He sounds desperate, broken and upset and it hurts Harry.

“No, it’s not what I want.” Harry says, and he feels relief to finally admit that for the first time. “Even though I think sometimes it’d be the right thing to do.”

“Why?” Louis asks, putting his tea down on the floor. “Why would it be the right thing to do?”

“You’re Luna’s teacher, surely there’s some sort of rule?”

“So?” Louis asks, his tone clearly conveying his indifference to that small factor. “Why d’you keep bringing that up?”

“It’s sort of a big deal isn’t it? There’s got to be some sort of rule about getting involved with a parent?”

Louis doesn’t say anything, and Harry feels like screaming. Clearly, Louis is going for petulance as he doesn’t say anything more. He must agree with Harry on some level, otherwise he’d have something to say.

“I’ve really liked what we had but…”

“Oh here we go…” Louis mutters under his breath and he looks away.

“Lou, please. I need… I need help; I don’t know what to do.”

“You say you wish it was that easy but you’re the one that’s making this difficult!” Louis turns back, and he’s clearly on a roll the way he shifts in his seat to look at Harry full on. “I like you, I _thought_ you liked me too. It’s unconventional and I know it isn’t what you’re used to but who the fuck cares? We could just see how it goes, day by day, screw what anyone thinks but every time I think we’re getting somewhere you find something else to obsess about!”

Louis drops his head into his hands, propping his elbow’s up on his knees and Harry pales in despair. He wants Louis to look up, he needs to see the blue of his eyes to carry on living otherwise it’s just hopeless. “I’ve never done _this_ , he gestures between their bodies with his hands, ”before, as you know, but I haven’t really had anything serious with _anyone_ before and-”

“Sorry but that just sounds like a lot of excuses to me, Harry.”

Harry feels his throat constrict with desperation. “It’s not, I promise, I’m just trying to get out how I feel but im doing fucking awfully at it.”

Louis lets out a laugh, the softest most delicate little chuckle and for a second Harry forgets everything. “You’re right. You are doin’ awfully.”

“Lou, I know I’ve been sh!t but I just don’t know what the hell I’m doing and I don‘t know what the right thing to do is.” It’s pathetic and it’s awful but it’s all Harry can compute with his brain in the state he is in now. He can feel tears burning behind his tired eyes and he wills himself _not_ to cry.

Louis takes a deep breath, reaches down for his tea, takes a sip and sets it back on the carpet again. “I have a few things I want to say. Will you listen?”

Harry nods feebly, sucking in his bottom lip to stop it quivering because he knows if it starts to shake he will cry.

“I know I don’t really know anything about you Harry, other than the tiny, _tiny_ bits you let me see. Obviously, you’re a dad and you’ve only been with girls in the past. I know Luna means everything to you and I know she’ll always come first. I know that this is new for you and it’s scary. I’ve been there before; I know how terrifying it is. But whatever this past month or so has been to you, I’m an actual person with fucking feelings, even though the way we met was… _unorthodox_ and a bit cringe, I’m actually starting to really, _really_ like you, so if you’ve come here to tell me you’re ‘straight’ or confused or if you just like to fuck with people’s emotions, you’re doing a great job but you can get out now.”

“Don’t say that,” Harry says minutely, shuddering at the thought of losing Louis. Harry hates that. Those words make him feel sick

“What do you expect me to say, Harry?” Louis asks, slumping his shoulders and his voice going flat too. “I’m trying to protect myself from getting’ hurt.”

“I’m so sorry,” Harry says again, to not one particular point Louis had made but all of it in general. “I don’t know how to do real relationships, I’ve never had one and I just messed up ‘cause I felt like everything was against me and I was scared.”

“Scared of what?” Louis asks, his voice soft and lilting and high.

“I… I really like you. And I feel like I shouldn’t.” He pauses to swallow uncomfortably around the lump in his throat, and what the hell? “I hate myself for how much I like you because it’s wrong and-“

“You need to stop telling yourself its wrong, Harry. It’s not.”

“But Luna…” Harry says quietly, almost non-existently.

Louis jumps up off the sofa and narrowly misses knocking his tea over. He whips around the arm of the sofa to the window, his hands clamped around either side of his head. His jumper rides up to reveal a strip of skin that is a faded tan colour. The sudden movement causes Harry to flinch.

“Oh my God, Harry! I wish you’d just take a bloody chance, fuck what other people think! I’m her teacher, yeah, but it’s not like I’m her _only_ teacher. Besides, in another week she’ll be out of Butterflies and it won’t be an issue anymore! But knowing you, you’ll still find something to cry about! Something else to use as an excuse why you can’t be with me!”

“I…” Shit, Harry hadn’t thought about it like that. Louis is right. In one week, less than one week, Luna will have left the preschool and she literally won’t be any connection to the establishment. Harry feels like laughing. Uncontrollably. It’s like all the answers had been presented to him on a platter. He feels giddy and light headed, so much so he almost doesn’t hear what Louis is saying.

“After Friday, this ‘thing’ you’re agonising over won’t be an issue anymore. There’ll be nothing standing in the way, ‘less you put something there.”

“I want to be with you, I do, but…”

“I knew there’d be a ‘but’,” Louis laughs madly, raising his hands again with a tragic, tired sigh. “Harry, you need to tell me what’s goin’ on _now_ and then you _need_ to get out. If you’re too scared or embarrassed to be with me then I want you to leave, ‘cause this time next week I won’t have to see you ever again and that will be it. You can go back to your life and I can go back to mine!”

Harry does the first thing he thinks of and covers his ears with his hands. He knows it’s immature and stupid but in that moment he feels so beaten down that he just wants to shelter himself from Louis’ onslaught. He folds his body over so his chin is by his knees and encases his head with his arms, screwing his eyes shut as if that will help to drown Louis out.

“Harry, stop it.” Louis’ hand is on his arm and the distance between them is closed in an instant. “Move your, Harry c’mon love. Stop that.” Louis takes his arms down from around his head and holds them by his sides, though Harry feels so over-exposed it hurts.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I really, really am. I’ve been a twat and I don’t deserve you, this is just so much to deal with I… I…”

Louis sits back down in the space next to him, one leg curled under the other. Louis leans in towards him, sliding his hands down Harry’s arm so they’re holding hands. He runs his thumb over Harry’s knuckles. He lifts his head and looks down at where there hands are joined and then up at Louis.

“Talk to me, Harry, please? I promise I want to hear everything. Obviously, there’s Luna. And you’re probably not gay. What are you? Do you even know?”

Harry shakes his head miserably.

“That doesn’t matter, not really. Not right now.” Louis says, and Harry knows those words are supposed to make him feel better but they just don’t. They sit in a bit more silence, Harry gathering up what he’s going to say and trying to make sense of it in his head before it all starts spilling out.

“I know I come with a lotta baggage.” Harry surmises, understatedly. “I was straight, obviously, ‘til I met you. I’ve never done the right thing. Got a girl pregnant at seventeen, still in school, we weren’t together at the time but when she told me I thought I should do the right thing so we started seeing each other but I messed _that_ up. Getting Luna was the only good thing I ever did. I never even tried to have relationships after that ‘cause no one wanted the boy with the baby. So it was just… messing about. Nothing ever stuck and that’s all this was supposed to be, too.” Louis doesn’t let go of him the entire time. Harry can’t stop now he’s started, it’s like word vomit.

“But with you it felt different. It confused me because I wasn’t prepared to feel that way. I’d never had anything like that happen to me before, so I just put it down to a drunken mistake that didn’t mean anything. Then I saw you at the preschool and I just panicked. I didn’t expect to fall… I mean to start thinking about you, y’know, like that. One minute I don’t even know you the next you’re all I can bloody think about. I tried to keep it buried ‘cause I knew you might get into trouble or that Luna might find out and if she was upset with me I’d never forgive myself.”

He pauses and Louis _still_ doesn’t let go of his hands. He’s nodding sagely, taking in everything Harry is saying and the iron weight on his chest is getting lesser and lesser as he goes.

“It’s not even the fact that you’re a boy. That wasn’t even an issue after like, _five_ minutes, honestly. It was… a surprise, but it didn’t bother me. It was quite exciting actually.” Harry adds with a weak little laugh. Louis smiles, lips together. “I was trying to keep you at arm’s length, ‘cause I thought it was the best thing to do, like I said before. I was too busy being a knob to realise that Luna was off to school and now in a week she’ll have left the preschool and… and you’re just Lou then, you’re no longer her teacher.”

Louis is still smiling, looking down at where there hands are joined. He lifts his head and opens his mouth.

“When I was in uni I was with a guy who wasn’t out and I was just his sordid little secret for seven months. In fact, he wasn’t even in the closet he was just a complete twat. We never did anything in public and if he saw me he’d look right through me, like I didn’t exist. But every night I’d end up in his bed or him in mine and I’d wake up at 3am to find him gone, or I’d have to leave well before lectures started just so no one would see me. He ended up going back to his ex-girlfriend and that was that.”

“That’s shit,” Harry says eloquently.

Louis nods sagely. “I can’t go through that again, Haz.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you.” Harry says, and Louis raises a sceptical eyebrow, which Harry accepts is fair game.

“If we were together, it’d be a big change for you. People will have their opinions, they always do, and if that’s gonna scare you away in the end then we may as well just en-”

“Don’t say that,” Harry begs again.

“D’you want to be with me?” Louis asks candidly, tightening his grip on Harry’s hand as if they’re about to be torn apart, although the rest of his body doesn’t move.

“Yeah,” Harry says quietly, throat thick. It _is_ what he wants. “Do you still want me? Even though I’ve been a prat?”

“Haz…” Louis breathes, letting go of Harry’s clenched fists. As their hands separate, Louis reaches up and gingerly cups his cheek, his fingers dancing over the expanse and into his hairline as his thumb presses against the faded laughter line from the edge of his nose to the corner of his mouth. “I’d still want you no matter what. You’ve wormed your way into my life now; I don’t think I could watch you walk out.”

Harry whispers into the diminishing space between their bodies, “I want to stay.”

Louis’ thumb ghosts delicately over the very edge of his bottom lip and he tilts Harry’s face up as he moves on the sofa, lifting onto his knees and throwing his leg over Harry’s lap so he’s straddling him. He brings his other hand up to rest on Harry’s chest, finger tips curled around the curvature of his shoulder as Harry sinks back into the sofa. He presses a solitary, burning kiss into Harry’s lips, his face still held in his hands. His lips are so soft and so much better than Harry remembered them, and that was pretty amazing in itself. Louis’ tongue thrusts past his lips and God, this is _good._

“So that’s a yes?” Louis asks weakly, breaking their kiss to breathe heavily against his lips. “You wanna be with me? Please say that’s a yes.”

Harry lets out a pent up chuckle, nodding ever so slightly. It’s a soft, relieved laugh, and suddenly he can breathe again as he says, “Yeah, it’s a yes.”

They grin like idiots into their next kiss; it’s sloppy and uncoordinated and they soon have to break away, but it’d easily make it into Harry’s Top 5 Kisses Ever. He swallows down his nerves and wills his breathing to return to normal, but his heart rate shoots right back up again as he considers for the first time that he has a _boyfriend._

*

They carry on lying on the sofa together for almost an hour, happy and contented silence occasionally interspersed with flurries of hushed conversation. Louis’ body drapes over Harry’s who reclines back, legs apart with Louis on his front between them. His cheek is pressed to Harry’s chest and his hands disappear around his middle into the cushions of the sofa.

“This feels so big. I feel like there should be more fuss.” Harry muses, dropping his head back onto the cushion and looking up at the ceiling.

“I dunno, I kinda like it just being between us two for just a minute.”

“Yeah, me too.” Harry says thoughtfully, lifting his head back up and taking in a lungful of the scent of Louis’ shampoo. “There’s no need to rush to the serious bits is there?”

“Course not, this is just a new relationship at the end of the day, we’ll just take it slow. Like a normal new relationship.”

 _’Relationship’._ Harry nods, revelling at the way ‘relationship’ sounds in his ears. “Sounds good.”

“I know,” Harry feels Louis smile against his chest. “And it doesn’t freak you out?”

“No, not at all.” Harry says, and he’s being honest. “I’m happy and we’re just going day by day, so…”

“I’m not one to push; at least I hope I’m not. I won’t press you to do anything you don’t want to. Obviously, it might be a bit strange for Luna, but if we just take things one step at a time I’m sure it’ll all be fine.”

Harry thinks about how he’s going to introduce Louis into his and Luna’s lives, wondering if she will be confused or upset or even angry with him. Should he do it gradually or should he just come straight out and tell her they’re boyfriends? He doesn’t get the impression from Louis that he will bolt after a few weeks, but he doesn’t want to introduce Luna to him as a (semi) permanent fixture in their lives and then have her left bereft a few weeks or months down the line.

“I suppose it’s a bit weird. Normally, if you start seeing someone with a kid y’have to go through the whole thing of meeting the kid, but you already know mine, so…”

“Yeah, it is odd. Good odd though. She’s a lovely kid but you’re her parent first and foremost, not my boyfriend.”

Louis lifts his head off Harry’s chest to look up at him after he says that. They both smile madly at each other at the first official use of the word ‘boyfriend’.

 _“’Boyfriend’,”_ Harry repeats again, trying the word out for himself on his tongue. It tastes good. He can’t help but grin. “I know we’ve never really spoken about her before, even after… everything. It means a lot, it does, that you don’t push me. There’s plenty of time to decide how we’re going to tell her, right? Let’s get ourselves figured out first?”

“Of course. I think it might be a bit strange for her at first, like it’s not ‘normal’ but I think we’ll be alright.” Louis says, closing his eyes as he cranes his neck up for a kiss.

Of course, as much as he tells himself that this _is_ normal and there really is nothing to tell, he simply fell for someone of the same gender as him, he knows there will be people who are surprised. He hopes no one is upset, his mum or his Nan. He can’t see Gemma being at all fazed, Mikey hopefully won’t care but he doesn’t feel the same reassurance about the work lot, or the pub lot. He momentarily considers the fact his mum will know what he has been up to in the bedroom, but he already has a daughter; it’s not like she will be under any illusions as to Harry’s ‘activity’, and his relationship with Louis is _really_ no different than a relationship with a girl.

Weighing everything up like that, it feels like a lot. It seems too big to comprehend. All he knows is that he _wants_ people to know. Wants people to see Louis and how lovely and frankly gorgeous he is and shove it in their faces that this boy is his, and if they don’t like it they know what they can do.

"I can't believe I almost fucked this up."

"I can't believe we almost fucked this up either," Louis says, and the impact of him changing 'I' to 'we' is not lost on Harry. "Like, I really fucking hated this for a minute. Like, was so angry that I'd ever met you, because it had happened in the wrong way at the wrong time but then it just got too much to try and hate it, y’know? It felt...right? As cheesy as that sounds?"

"Cor, that _was_ quite cheesy, Lou."

"Look, don't blame me! If you weren't so flippin' adorable I wouldn't need to be cheesy!"

"Lou, can I ask you something?" Harry asks, sobering up as they stop laughing and go back to sort of just staring at each other with wide eyes that are the heart-eyes emoji personified, really.

Louis makes a Serious Face and nods. "Ooh, sounds important."

"It is," Harry says and Louis' face falls back into normal, neutral territory. "Like, I wanna... y'know... with you, but... I don't know... _how_ , y'know?"

Louis looks at him, completely still for a moment, before Louis lets out a breathy, barking seal shout of a laugh. "Ahh, oh my God, love! I'm sorry, I really am, that was just so... fractured and cute!" Harry pouts. He was trying to be brave. "Oh love, you don't need to worry about ' _that_ ', I promise. I'll take care of you."

Harry nods. He sounds sincere despite his initial reaction. Louis settles his head back down on Harry’s chest. "Thanks. I mean, I've... obviously, but not like, like that, ever."

"Never?"

“No,” Harry admits. He never expected he’d be feeling inexperienced in the bedroom, but right now he does. “Is it gonna be a problem?”

“What? No, of _course_ not.” Louis says firmly, looking back up at him. "Have you ever fingered yourself?"

Harry can't help but blush. God, who does Louis think he _is_ , springing a question like that on him without warning? Harry’s cheeks burn scarlet as he shakes his head again. There had been that one incident when he was… in fact, no, that doesn’t even count. He won’t bother telling Louis.

"That's okay." Louis says confidently. "It'll be fun to learn. To teach."

"You're really hard." Harry says, perhaps a little out-of-the-blue, which elicits another laugh from Louis.

" _Yes_ , kind of difficult not to be when you're around, Haz."

"Can I suck you?" Harry asks, running with the adrenaline of Louis f!ngering question from a moment ago.

"Are you sure?" Louis says; Harry doesn't miss the way Louis' breath hitches in his throat a bit, and the way he pauses for a second before answering. Harry nods innocently and he feels Louis' cock twitch against his tummy. "Yeah, fuck, course y'can."

Harry nods, suddenly feeling filled up by nerves, but he tamps his emotions down and stretches his neck back up to Louis for another kiss. Yes, distraction tactics, perfect. He can feel Louis pressing into the very top of his thigh as they kiss, like a reminder, and he pulls away after a moment or two.

“We should go to my room, be more comfy there.” Louis almost whispers, Harry falling apart inside. He nods and Louis lifts himself slowly off the sofa, putting a hand out for Harry. Tentatively, he takes it and allows himself to spring up off the sofa. He can’t help but stare at the obvious, thick outline of Louis' cock through his joggers.

"Y’alright?" he hears Louis say; it's clouded and distant like they're a million miles away from each other. Louis says his name and he realises he hasn't replied yet, he's just staring at Louis' crotch like a weirdo.

"Yeah, fine." he whispers. He can do this. He's had a million of these. Well, he's had _many,_ and he's watched Louis himself do this to him three times now. He can _do_ this, it can't be _that_ hard. Well, it _should_ be hard. Not even a poorly executed pun can quell Harry's nerves.

He follows Louis up the stairs, familiar with this route but suddenly feeling like a baby giraffe that can’t walk. His legs are a curious mix of floaty and weighed down. Louis’ bedspread is now a black and grey check pattern where it was pastel blue before. Louis is his boyfriend now where he was just a fling before. Funny how things change.

Harry had forgotten how good Louis looks out of his clothes. His skin is so warm and soft where his t-shirt had been, Harry would cling to him like an over-friendly koala if the time was right. In fact, he’ll probably do that later.

"How do I..? Do I, shall I..." Harry’s hands feel a bit clammy with anticipation and his stomach has butterflies that just won’t quit.

"If I stand, that might be an easier angle for you?" Louis says, pulling away from Harry and sinking back against the wall. Harry takes in every movement of Louis' body. Louis smiles calmingly at him and Harry supposes he must look pretty stupid, all dumbstruck and wide-eyed and virginal. He mulls the last thing Louis said to him over in his head until it no longer makes sense. "Are you with me, Harry?"

"Sorry, yeah," Harry says, refocusing on Louis, who is smaller as he shrinks into the wall, looking up at Harry with hooded eyes. Sh!t… "C'mere."

They kiss again for another inordinate amount of time. Harry doubts there are compartments in Louis' mouth that he _hasn't_ explored yet, but he won't leave that to chance. Their lips meld together and their tongues ghost around their mouths rhythmically. Louis' hands slither down the curve of Harry's back and rest around the distension of his bum. He lets his own hands slide over the warm, soft plane of Louis' chest and the ridges and nobbles of his abdomen, the very ends of his fingers lighting up with electricity from the brush of the hair trickling down beneath Louis' trousers.

Joggers are scientifically proven to be the easiest bottoms to take off, ever. The stretchy elastic waistband comes down so easily; snapping against Louis' hips the first time because of Harry's trembling, nervous fingers.

The second time, he hooks the index and middle finger of both hands under the elastic and swirls them around to Louis' sides, taking down the joggers and Louis' boxers at the same time. His cock springs free and bounces lazily in the air as Louis wriggles his joggers down to his ankles. Harry takes a small step back, Louis' hands falling away to splay flat against the wall either side of him.

"Don't do this if you don't want to, Haz." Louis says, but Harry can't hear him. He wants to do this. Thinking about doing this gives him little sparks of energy throughout his whole body, makes his already achingly hard cock even more interested.

"I do wanna," Harry whispers, taking Louis in his hand and feeling his way around initially. He makes a couple of swipes with his hand, feeling just a few beads of precome smear against his fingers, and he mentally prepares himself for what this is going to be like, though he doesn’t really have a clue.

He takes a quick look at the space around them; there is probably just about room for him. He takes a deep breath, let's Louis go for a second, and drops to his knees. He feels a bit stupid at first, worried he looks ridiculous, but Louis apparently is already groaning. He slips one hand into Harry's curls and tilts his head up.

"It'll be okay."

Harry nods. Harry feels like the absolute silence they’re in could kill him, it’s that heavy and intense. He cringes immeasurably as he creaks on one knee and it lets out a God awful crunching sound.

"Just sorta lick, like up each side, to start. From base to tip." Louis says softly, and Harry nods again. Nods like he doesn't know any other social interaction. He still feels like he's nodding as he places the flat of his tongue on Louis' cock for the first time, but that's probably just the tremor of his nerves. The little shuddering moan that Louis gives is encouraging though, and Harry feels a wave of determination to carry on.

He sees the glow from the ceiling lights reflect off his spit glinting on Louis' cock, and moves him around in his hand to tackle the other side. This time, he's taking an in breath as he starts at the base, and he can smell soap and boy, and it sends a shot through his stomach to his own cock. With both sides slick, it just leaves the underside.

He nudges Louis' cock a bit further skyward and drags his tongue all the way up, his nose nudging against the shaft as he does, like a little preview. He falters for only half a second as he hovers over Louis' head, breathing in the heady smell and deliberating with himself how this is going to feel.

"Just a bit at a time, love." Louis says, and Harry is grateful because he _knows_ deep throating would be an unrealistic expectation and he's glad Louis isn't pushing him. Not that he ever expected for a minute that he would. Harry, of course, has no personal frame of reference, but he’s not stupid, he _knows_ Louis is a good size. Like, dauntingly so. He worries for a moment that he won't be able to fit much in, maybe not on his first time at least. "Take deep breaths when you can, breathe through your nose when you can't." Louis murmurs.

"Okay," Harry says softly as he opens his mouth and brings his tongue forward slightly to cover his bottom teeth. He'd read that in Gemma's Cosmopolitan magazine when he was a horrified thirteen year old; it had scarred him for life and he'd never forgotten it. Who'd have thought that nine years down the line he'd be using said tip for himself.

He takes one deep breath and brushes Louis' cock into his mouth, resting it on the flat of his tongue. He feels the head reach the back of his tongue where it starts to narrow and he impulsively brings it back out, mouth agape and awkward. On the second go, mouth still not really closed around Louis, he feels a smidge more confident until Louis begins to fill the narrowing crevice of the back of his throat and he jumps off again.

"Haz, it's alright, just... try the head, don't take too much."

Harry tries to listen, to obey. It just feels so much the opposite of what he thinks he should be doing. However, he reminds himself that he really _doesn't_ know what he's doing and Louis definitely does, so he should listen to his advice. He swallows hard and directs Louis' cock back into his mouth.

"That's it, keep your hand around, use it... that's... yeah," Louis chokes out as Harry inadvertently connects his lips with his hand and does a little bob of his head once, twice. "Fucking hell, yes."

Harry makes a surprised, strangled little sound in his throat and Louis sings out again. "Close your mouth now. Suck."

Harry's eyes, that had been hooded and bordering on watering for the last minute or so, fly open at the instruction and he feels caught between bolting and ploughing down on Louis. Neither would end well, he knows, but the metaphorical boot has kicked him up the arse and it's time for movement.

He knows which of the two options he’d rather explore, so he carries on with Louis instead of running away like an idiot. He doesn't get it on the first go, but after three or four aborted attempts where he just let's Louis' cock fill his open mouth, he closes his mouth at the top and with a little suction and his breath held and whole body rigid with fear, he sinks down until his lips meet the point of his palm wrapped around Louis, and down comes the foreskin and there is Louis' slick, sleek head brushing the pad of his tongue and the roof of his mouth.

"Jesus fuck!" Louis gasps, his hands coming off the wall to grab Harry's shoulders. "Yeah, you got it. Breathe, breathe love, breathe."

Harry remembers only after being prompted that he has to breathe. He takes a ragged huff in through his nose as he slides back up Louis' cock, already feeling a million times better now the hardest (funny) parts are over. Maybe he can enjoy this?

He’s hard himself in his shorts. He’s been hard since Louis first kissed him. He gets why people love this and he gets why people hate this; he can see both sides. He’s not sure where he stands yet, but it’s certainly an experience. If it’s Louis he's with, he wants to do everything. Leave no stone unturned, as it were. Letting his mind wander seems to be a good thing, as he realises he's been working up and down on the first two or three inches or so of Louis' cock for a good while now without messing up or having an existential crisis mid-fellatio.

A few different things cross his mind, like the moving his hand with his mouth thing he’d accidentally done earlier. He tries it again once or twice but feels immediately out of his depth so he stills his hand and continues to just move back and forth. He knows he could never compete with Louis at this moment in time, but he remembers the flick of the tongue Louis had done for him, and thinks about maybe trying to replicate that. It wouldn't be too difficult would it?

He tries a few abortive techniques before he lifts his mouth off entirely and braves a look up at Louis. The man above him looks down with bleary eyes and an almost pained chuckle. "Don’t look at me like that, I’ll come straight away."

"Is it okay?"

"Yeah love, keep going." Louis begs. " _Please."_

Harry gathers as much breath as he can in his lungs and exhales it harshly as he takes Louis back down, the little pause giving him some perspective. He gets into some sort of rhythm, managing to coordinate a pulsing little suckle on the way down with a flick of his tongue on the way back up. He can tell Louis is trying to stop himself from thrusting his hips forward into Harry's mouth in the way that every once in a while his hips inch off the wall and he hears Louis curse and mutter under his breath.

Harry's not sure how long he's been down here for, with the pauses and the interruptions, but he _does_ know that his jaw is starting to hurt. Right at the back, right where it connects just under his ears. He clamps down tight around Louis and gives three meaningful sucks, stifling a tired, overwhelmed sigh that obviously shoots right through Louis for much better reasons that Harry had intended.

" _Harry_ ," Louis says sharply. He firmly presses against Harry's shoulder with one hand, nudging him back off his cock. He grabs his rock hard cock back with the same hand and wanks himself off furiously. "I’m gonna..."

Louis doesn't even finish his sentence before he's coming into his hand and onto his belly with an almost celebratory groan and a deep, ragged sigh. Louis tugs himself through his orgasm, Harry rocking back onto his haunches and kind of watching in awe and in shock as Louis comes.

Louis blindly reaches out for Harry and motions wildly for him to stand up to his full height. He undoes Harry's shorts and has him out of his clothes before he knows what's going on. Harry himself is coming into Louis' hand with just a few short, sharp motions around his achingly hard, precome dripping cock.

They breathlessly fall into each other, one propping the other up with firm shoulders and arms as they come down from their mutual orgasms. Harry eyes the splattering of their combined come on Louis’ golden skin warily as he falls back onto Louis’ bed.

Harry sits next to Louis, cock still out but so is his so he doesn't worry too much. "I'm sorry if that was crap."

"Harry, fuck no, don't apologise. That was… incredible for a first go."

"Thanks," Harry mumbles into his shoulder with a bashful, embarrassed smile. "I thought... I thought I was crap."

"You definitely weren't." Louis confirms again for him, and at this point Harry doesn't even care if Louis is just being polite. "I can't wait for the next one!"

Harry blanches but then laughs, and Louis has a similar uncertain look in his eye too. For a moment they just sit there together in silence. "Thanks again," Harry says, feeling the poignancy and the scale of the evenings revelations catching up to him.

"What, for letting you suck me off?" Louis asks with a laugh.

"No you div, for giving me a chance."

"Oh!" Louis says softly, like he knew that really. Harry is sure. "I couldn't _not_. I'd miss this beautiful face too much."

Harry feels his cheeks fill with colour and heat as Louis gently reaches up to dust his fingers over the skin. He marvels at how it doesn't make him want to run a mile, but makes him want to get Louis cleaned and dressed and cuddle with him. Feel his heartbeat and his pulse and count the freckled splodges on his cheek. Neither of them says anything for a minute, they just sit in companionable silence as Louis bounces his foot on the floor and Harry picks at a loose strand on his shorts. They both go soft and it should be embarrassing, maybe, but it just isn’t. The peace and stillness is perfect.

Eventually, it has to end though.

"Right, I'm gonna clean up. You okay?" Louis says softly, cautiously. Harry nods and Louis says a soft 'okay' under his breath, before disappearing into the bathroom with his hands protecting his modesty.

*

Louis returns in boxers with his hair pushed back off his face, slightly damp at his temples. Harry nips to the loo himself, desperate to get back into bed. To Louis.

Just like the last time he’d stayed over, Louis has left a toothbrush next to the sink for him. Silently, he brushes his teeth, the toothpaste burning his gums and tongue as he lingers over washing away the tastes of the evening; beer, cigarette smoke, Louis.

Back in the bedroom, Louis is already in bed, the duvet cover on the empty side pulled back ready for him. Harry climbs in next to him, unsure of where to lay so he just rolls onto his side to face Louis. With his grapefruit face wash scenting his skin and minty toothpaste on his breath, Louis is absolutely perfect.

“Alright?” Louis asks, a quizzical smile on his face as Harry refocuses and realises he’s been staring at Louis a little too long.

“Sorry, yeah, just looking. I’m a weirdo.”

“I had noticed.” Louis says, biting the tip of his tongue between his teeth and he laughs.

“Oi!” Harry says weakly without much conviction. He closes his eyes and tips his head forward to gently head butt Louis’ nose. “Not an hour in and you’re already insulting me!”

“I mean well,” Louis says, and Harry’s heart constricts in his chest. “Gimme a kiss?”

Harry does so, obligingly, not one to turn down Louis’ kisses.

*

When Harry wakes the following morning, it’s not to his alarm or to Luna’s urgent hand on his shoulder or to his mum ringing him wondering where he is. It’s to an empty bed, _Louis’_ empty bed, which okay _is_ alarming at first, but then he sees the boy in question quietly pottering around the foot of the bed. With his back turned, he can see Giggs on the back of his red shirt, and when he turns around, his top is a vintage 1994 season United shirt with SHARP emblazoned across the chest.

He’s in his tracksuit bottoms again that Harry assumed he must live in when he’s not working. It makes sense really, Louis’ skinny jeans are criminally snug and time out of them is probably good for the circulation in his legs.

“Mornin’,” He snuffles quietly, his voice piercing the silence but still sounding stuffy and raw.

“Hi, love,” Louis says, looking up brightly at the sound of Harry’s voice. Louis actually owns the colour red Harry decides.

“You okay? Hope I didn’t wake you?”

“No, not at all.” Harry says, pulling himself up to a sitting position in the bed, the sheets heated from their bodies that had been in situ all night. Harry wouldn’t consider Louis’ room to be a mess but here is Louis, tidying up at… 09:34 on Sunday morning. “Do you always get up this early?”

“It’s not really _that_ early, Haz,” Louis points out with a laugh, a bundle of clothes that he’d been in the process of collecting in his arms. “But yeah, I don’t mind a nice early morning.”

“Is it too late to change my mind?” Harry says softly, with a laugh and luckily Louis laughs too. “Though this morning is nice. With you.”

Louis smiles and he looks like he is trying to decide what to say back, but in the end says nothing until he asks him a few minutes later if he wants breakfast.

“Fancy something to eat? And bear in mind you’ve rejected my offer of breakfast once before, so at this point I’m a bit emotionally fragile. Got a bit of a complex about my cooking skills.”

Harry can’t help but laugh. This Louis is so precious; he can’t believe he almost lost this. “Yeah, alright. Please.”

“Bacon and egg sandwiches my speciality?”

*

Harry wanders through the hallway to the front room as Louis occupies the kitchen. He'd never looked closely at any of the homely clutter around Louis’ home before. He’d equated looking deeper into the finer points of Louis' life with becoming too far gone, and he'd managed to blank almost everything out until now.

He wanders out of the kitchen to the living room, wandering over to the photos on the wall in multi-aperture frames. He can pick Louis out in two of the photos, one under the arm of a jolly looking older man with white hair and a white moustache, and one of him in the midst of five similar looking females. He knows the only blonde in the pack is Lottie, and the two twins are obviously easy to pick out. The older woman is obviously their mum, so that means the timid looking brunette girl on the end must be Fizzy. All the girls are beautiful; they have a look of their mum about them with kind heart-shaped faced and thick, tousled hair tossed over their shoulders.

On the other side of the room, there are shelves holding several shining football trophies; not an ounce of dust is in sight and Harry thinks he’d better clean his flat in bleach before Louis comes over for the first time. There are trophies for winning and trophies for finishing runner up; in the under 12's, under 15's and most recently under 21's, as well as a shiny plastic gold trophy that is engraved to 'the world's best teacher'. Harry can't help but smile at that.

Under the shelves there is a side unit housing a large framed double-aspect photo and a glowing, bubbling fish tank. Two neon blue and orange fish and an ominous looking black fish with a big round mouth swim around silently and elegantly. In the frame is a picture of the Stretford End of Old Trafford and Louis and the same white haired, moustached man outside the stadium arm in arm. Louis looks probably about sixteen or seventeen in the picture. Harry runs his finger slowly round the frame, jumping when he hears Louis' voice.

"Admiring Gallery del Tomlinson?" He asks, appearing in the door way. Harry turns round to find him smiling, leaning against the door frame.

"Big United fan?" Is the first thing Harry can think to say, as if it wasn't _obvious._

"Yeah!" Louis peers down at his shirt with a giggle. "What gave it away?"

"I like your pictures. Your trophies. World's best teacher? That's cute."

"Yeah, my first ever gift from one the kids, had to give it pride of place." Louis says fondly. "It's a bit lame, all the footie stuff. That’s what Lots and Fiz say anyway."

"They're not into sport then?"

"Nope!" Louis says with a popping P. "If it isn't sold in Boots or Superdrug, Lottie isn't interested. Fizzy the same. The twins are a bit better; they’re still young and fun enough that they’ll get stuck in to a kickabout."

Harry almost says he can't wait to meet them, but he decides against it at the very last minute. "My sister and me used to kickabout in the garden all the time before-" _Before our dad left._ "Before I got too shit at it."

Harry cringes at himself for that useless bit of information, but Louis' eyes disappear into crinkles as he smiles and he thinks that maybe it was an okay thing to say. "I’m sure you're not. Luna said you're 'the bestest' at keepie-uppies."

Harry involuntarily chuckles. "Did she now? Well, my talents begin and end there."

“I’m sure you’ve got talent in other areas.” Louis says, his voice unfairly cracked and open. Harry hadn’t noticed how close Louis was before. The exposed skin where his sleeve ends brushes against Harry’s arm and it’s like electricity. The whir of the filter in the fish tank is that only thing that stands between them and complete silence.

“I dunno…”

“I think you have.” Louis says, lifting his head up at the very second Harry lifts his too. Harry is vaguely aware of Louis licking his lips, the hairs on their forearms still creating a static energy between them. Harry feels rooted to the spot and unable to breathe.

"Lou?" Harry asks, rasps really. Louis makes a noise in the back of his throat, apparently unable to find words. The tension between them is too massive, and then at the very last minute, he realises it. "Your eggs are burning."

They both snort with laughter, all the tension dissolving immediately. The eggs _had_ begun to catch just slightly, but Louis hadn't been lying when he'd said that the sandwiches were his speciality. They eat standing up in the kitchen, leaning against opposing units in the kitchen. Louis slides his socked foot across the tiles to prod at Harry’s ankle, exposed still in his shorts from last night that are now creased and lacklustre.

“Stop attacking me.” Harry says, smiling around a mouthful of food.

“Why? I like it.”

“You sod.”

“Yep!” Louis grins widely.

Harry blushes crimson as Louis beams at him during a rushed, awkward phone call with his mum. He tries to avoid catching Louis’ eye and focus on what his mum is saying but it’s so difficult to keep his eyes trained away from Louis.

“Your mum sounds nice,” Louis says afterwards, smiling broadly still, arms folded across his chest and legs crossed at the ankles.

“I’m embarrassed, sorry!”

“Don’t be! My mum still licks her sleeve to wipe dirt off me face!”

Harry just snorts; he has no come back for that. Harry repeatedly says he will be fine but Louis insists that he drives him back to his mum’s to get Luna, so with less time on their hands than they’d originally anticipated, they bundle into Louis’ car and make the journey across the town.

Harry leans back in the passenger seat and sneaks the occasional glance at Louis. He grips the top of the wheel with one hand and slings the other one over the gear stick leisurely. He pouts his lips almost subconsciously as he drives and Harry realises that’s his concentration face. It’s nice to add something else to his book of things to remember about Louis.

Louis drops him in exactly the same place as before, without even having to ask for directions or a reminder. It occurs to Harry that if this thing they have together now is going to be serious, he really should confess that this drop off point isn't actually anywhere near his mum's house. He considers this, but having a potential mum encounter less than twenty four hours after becoming official doesn’t seem like a very good idea to Harry.

"Thanks," He says as the engine cuts out as Louis pulls to a stop. "For the lift and for the brekkie and for, for last night."

"Of course," Louis says, smiling. He sinks back into his seat and watches as Harry sits rooted to the spot, running his hands up and down his thighs and faltering. "My pleasure."

"I’ll see you soon?” He asks, feeling a bit silly for some reason.

“Yeah, yeah. Definitely. Not sure when, but…”

"I’ll text you? I’ll probably see you tomorrow afternoon.” Harry says, adding a bit morosely, “Briefly.”

“Yeah you will,” Louis says. “Harry?” He says again, just as he’s going to reach for the door handle. He turns back around and Louis leans across the seat to press one single kiss on his lips. "I’ll see you soon."

Harry falters for a moment, suddenly feeling way too small for this earth. "Yeah. Bye, Lou."

He doesn't feel present in his body as he gets out the car and pushes the door closed quietly. As he begins to awkwardly walk up the street, he turns back to see Louis give him a small wave of his fingers that are wrapped around the top of the steering wheel. He gives a small wave back and luckily Louis is gone before he crosses the road.

His mum gives him a look when he turns up in quite obviously yesterday's clothes, and Harry's sure she is drawing her own conclusions in her head. She's half right, he supposes. Right idea, wrong gender, probably.

“I don’t want to _know_ where you’ve been!” His mum says as she opens the door to him. He gives her a chaste kiss on the cheek and ignores her comments as he steps into the living room, surprised to see Gemma and James.

"Looking awful as per usual!” Gemma remarks. He hadn’t twigged but he realises he’s passed James’s four by four on the way in.

“Thanks Gem, lovely to see you too. Alright James, good to see you, pal.”

James gives him a polite wave, the best he can do with Luna crawling all over him; the little curly haired blonde not bothered at all at Harry’s arrival.

“Luna, daddy’s here.” Gemma points out, reaching across James to poke Luna in the ribs. She shrieks, jolts her foot into James’ thigh and squeals; clearly not concerned at all.

Harry waves a hand dismissively and takes a spare seat next to his mum, watching as Luna wallops James' shoulder saying "C'mon horsey, let's gallop round the farm!" she throws her head back and shrieks in delight as James bounces her on his knee, holding her hands and waving her arms in the air as she 'gallops'. Harry has to smile, Luna has always loved James and Harry sometimes thinks he'd make a better parent than he does.

"She's missed you really, I promise!" His mum says softly, nudging his arm and breaking his trance.

"Oh I'm sure!" Harry says wryly.

"Oi, bro, what's with the shorts?" Gemma shouts across the room, resting her tea on the arm of the sofa which is risky considering Luna’s lively state.

"Why not the shorts?" Harry counters.

"Well I dunno, I just usually only see you in trousers made of cement, or skinny jeans."

"Yeah well..." Harry can't think quickly enough.

"You're still in last night’s outfit aren't you?" Gemma asks with a raucous bark of a laugh. "You dirty stop out, you!"

Harry blushes hard and thinks _if only you knew_. He's saved much more embarrassment by his mum hissing at Gemma to stop, staring over at Luna then back at Gemma to convey her message. Luna, however, wouldn't be aware of what was going on if it jumped up and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Leave him alone, Gemma, I don't want to hear it!"

"Mum, you're not- just... shush, _please!_ " Harry mutters, everyone laughing at him.

"What's you all laughin' at daddy for?" Luna asks, stilling in James' lap and twisting her torso around to look at them sternly. "Did he tell a funny?"

"I made a silly face at Auntie Gem." Harry supplies.

"Let me see!" Luna squeals, scrambling off James’ lap to run to Harry and stare at him expectantly. Harry pulls his worst face; all teeth and eyes rolled back in his head and awful guttural noises from his throat.

Luna appreciates, matches and beats Harry’s face; opening her mouth as wide as it will go and sticking out her tongue with her eyes crossed and fingers in her ears, all while making the most abominable throaty noise.

"You definitely win, Lune!" Harry admits, throwing a nearby stuffed toy at her.

"Oi!" she pouts, folding her arms then scrambling down from James' lap. "Don’t 'frow things, _Daddy!"_

"I'll say sorry if you give me a cuddle." Harry says, desperate to get his hands on his daughter finally.

She doesn't look convinced, so he reaches out to snatch her up, the shrieking beginning again as he wrestles her into his arms. She soon calms down as he tucks her into his chest and holds her tight.

"Missed you, pumpkin." He whispers, pressing his lips to the top of her head. She smells like his mum's shampoo.

"Missed you too, Daddy." She mumbles softly, reaching out to fiddle with a curl that has fallen forward. "Did you 'ave a nice time out?"

He smiles, amazed at how caring and considerate his little girl is. "Yes I did babe. Thank you." He replies, thinking of his night and the progress that had been made.

*

Anne makes all five of them Sunday dinner, and Gemma and James occupy Luna in the back garden on the swing while Harry stands by his mum's side half-heartedly helping to do the washing up.

"I won't be able to have Luna next week love, it's Debbie from work's 50th so I’m out for that."

"Oh that's alright," Harry shrugs. "Not to worry."

"While they're out there, I've got something for you."

"Oh?" Harry asks, interest piqued as his mum dries her hands off on the tea towel and pulls open the cutlery drawer. Lifting up the caddy, she produces an envelope.

Harry takes it and examines the front: it’s addressed to him personally at his mum's address. The envelope is so thin it feels empty.

"What is it?" Harry critiques the post-stamp: Liverpool. He doesn't know anyone in... oh. He feels sick instantly and his roast dinner threatens to make a reappearance. "Oh no, mum what is it?"

Anne shrugs with a concerned look on her furrowed brow and chewed lip. "Open it, love."

"I don't want to." Harry says petulantly, holding it against his chest and closing his eyes.

"Harry love, open it."

He opens his eyes and stares back down at the envelope. With a reluctant sigh, he sticks his index finger under the fold and rips it open. He can see the notes before he's even got the envelope fully open and he can feel the bile rising in his throat. "No. no fucking way."

"Is it them?"

"Her mum." Harry says shortly. He takes the leaf of lined paper ripped from a spiral bound notepad and unfolds it; three little lines of illegible, chicken scratch blue pen reading _'for the babe for her fifth birthday, love always from her nanny and grandad'_.

He looks up at his mum who has taken five twenty pound notes out of the envelope and is clutching them, staring at them forlornly. She looks like she might be about to say something to keep the peace, but Harry beats her to it.

"What the hell, mum, why have they done this? They're gonna ask to see her aren't they? They can't, I won't allow it!" He throws the paper onto the unit. It sweeps across the counter in the breeze and slips straight into the sink. Good.

"Love, they're not going to do anything. They can't without your written permission."

"They're not taking her!" He flies into a panic, spinning around to look at Luna out in the garden and then back at his mum.

Gemma is with them in a second, sliding across the patio door and wrapping herself around Harry so he's sandwiched between the two women. "Haz, what's wrong? Mum, what's going on?"

"Fucking _them!"_ Harry erupts, ignoring his mum wincing at his language. "A hundred quid for Luna's birthday! They're writing to mum at her home, they're gonna ask for visitation next I just know it!"

"Haz, no, don't be stupid. They won’t get anywhere near us without court and your permission. It's _not_ happening!"

"Fucking right it's not!" Harry pushes the heel of his hand into his eyes fiercely and sniffs hard. "They're not having my baby!"

"Love, love, calm down please, you'll upset Luna if she sees you like this!" Anne pulls him back in close and soothes his back with her palms. "Shhh, it's okay."

Even at twenty two, Harry will never be too old for one of his mum's cuddles. He'll never be too old to need his mum.

Gemma stuffs the notes back into the envelope and stuffs it in the back of the drawer. "I've put it away. What are you going to do with it?"

"I don’t want it!" Harry says immediately. "Luna doesn't need anything from them, we've been fine for five years, and we don't need them now!"

"Once we've calmed down, we could put it in her savings account?" Anne says, trying to mediate as per usual.

"No!" Harry exclaims, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He sees the looks his mum gives Gemma. "We don't need them!"

"It’s alright love." Anne says again, linking her arm in his and soothing the skin with her other hand. "C'mon, dry your eyes, poor James is stuck with Luna out there. Let’s go and rescue him."

Harry excuses himself to the bathroom to calm down while the girls go back outside. His bedroom, the first room Luna ever knew, isn't his room anymore. Obviously; they've been gone for years now. Where he once had blue papered walls and threadbare carpet, awful gaudy striped bed covers, mismatched curtains and furniture covered in football stickers and later cut outs from FHM and Nuts (later removed once they baby was on its way), it's now a beautiful buttermilk yellow with a new plush carpet and a double bed. The end tables have matching lamps and an alarm clock on one side and box of tissues on the other. The curtains and duvet cover are coordinated and there's a vase of silk flowers on the window sill.

Still, when Harry steps in, he can still remember his hormonal teenage years; spraying too much Lynx to impress girls, leaning out the window for a cheeky smoke with Mikey, crying silently into his pillows the night he found out about the baby, six months later laughing until he cried with Gemma trying to build the cot and find a space for it between his bed and the wardrobe.

He can still smell his aftershave sometimes; still hear the crappy music he used to blare from his speakers on top of his chest of drawers. He sits on the corner of the bed and runs his foot along the skirting board, thinking over and over about the hundred pounds downstairs in the cutlery drawer. It makes his blood boil to think that these people think they have the right to just send money to his mum's house. His mind runs away with the endless (increasingly unlikely) scenarios they could end up in. He can hear Luna hollering in the garden as things come back into focus, and he takes a deep breath. He vaults off the bed and runs back downstairs. He’s not wasting another minute.

*

Luna isn't fazed about the fact that it's her last week at preschool. Harry’s not sure she fully understands, though, and how he _wishes_ to be her. They wake up in plenty of time, for a change, and he lets her have Coco Pops for breakfast. That makes her happy and she’s a little bit more amenable to getting dressed and walking to preschool. She stomps ahead of him in her defect Skechers and a frilly skirt with patterned leggings and a denim jacket.

He _knows_ he is unlikely to see Louis, but it still doesn’t stop it from being a disappointment when he doesn’t see him. He thinks momentarily about how he might be able to leave a message for Louis somewhere, but ultimately and quickly decides there are too many variables and that plan would be unlikely to end well.

Later that afternoon, after an extremely _nothing_ day at work, he sees Louis across the classroom helping a precious little dark skinned girl with braids put her shoes back on. Louis peers up at him quickly as the little girl looks down to fasten her Velcro, and gives Harry the purest, most discreet smile ever.

Harry saves it to his memories and smiles back, itching to give a wave or _anything_. In the end, he accepts Luna into his arms for a massive hug and they set off. He looks over his shoulder one more time to lock eyes with Louis before they leave.

Tuesday is a bit more mad. He realises mid-morning that he hasn't asked for a half day Friday of Luna’s graduation, and there is a very tense half an hour where he's unsure if he'll be allowed the time off. He sends a barrage of panicked, expletive-riddled texts to Louis instead of working, until finally they come back to him and tell him he can finish at three. That will give him 45 minutes to change in the portaloo, get picked up by his mum, get to the preschool and find a seat in the hall. It _should_ be fine.

Louis gives him a curious look when he picks Luna up, and Harry signals that he will explain via text later. Louis nods, still quizzical, but smiles in acceptance and they say goodbye with their eyes.

*

_'What was all that about earlier? xx'_

Harry smiles when he sees Louis’ text come through. He’d shortened the entry to ‘Lou’ and added a blue heart emoji next to the sunshine on Monday morning when he’d been lying in bed waking up.

_'Panicked that I couldn't get time off for Friday. It will be okay though, I got an hour and a half off, tight bastards xx'_

_'Jeez, yeah talk about tight. Bad news, I might not be at the graduation, they need 4 of us to watch the younger kids that aren't goin up xx'_

_'Oh shame :( we'll miss you xx'_

_'I’ll see what I can sort out, might be able to get in at the end xx'_

*

It's been a long week, and by Friday the thought of possibly seeing Louis for more than thirty seconds is almost as exciting to him as the thought of seeing Luna graduate – which, sue him – makes him a terrible person, he knows that.

Despite the fact he's finishing an hour and a half early the day seems longer than ever. He already feels like he's worked a full week by the time it gets to their 11am tea break. Harry can barely concentrate as he listens to the inane chat of the blokes around him; football talk mostly. Normally, Harry could stomach talk of football but today he can’t focus on anything.

He lays four slabs the wrong way round before he realises and has to pull them up and re-lay them. He daydreams that he will read the time wrong and mistake 4pm for 3pm and miss the whole thing. He can hardly concentrate as Mikey talks to him about it; asks him if he can _believe_ Luna is finishing preschool, or if he can _believe_ she is almost _five_ years old? No, is the answer. Harry cannot.

At five to three in the afternoon, Harry is practically vibrating out of his skin. He stopped working a good fifteen minutes ago, just standing aimlessly poking at a dirt pile with his shovel and moving reels of turf from one side of the garden to the other. Finally, at 3pm exactly he slaps Mikey on the back, receives the well wishes of the guys around him and heads for the portaloo to change.

He soaks his face, the water swilling back into the sink a murky brown as he removes the mud and dust that cakes his face and sits in his eyebrows. Drying off with paper towels is less than pleasurable but he gets it done eventually. He hopes that the redness in his cheeks will die down before he gets there. He runs his damp hands through his hair and puts on a spritz of Jean Paul Gaultier.

Someone wolf whistles him as he steps out of the portaloo in skinnies, a navy polo shirt and all black Converse. By the time he dashes to the site entrance, away from mud and flying debris and onto the track back to the main road, his phone tells him its 15:18 and his heart won’t settle in his chest.

He sees his mum’s car and breaks into a jog to get to her quicker, throwing himself into the passenger seat the second his hands get around the door handle.

“Harry, calm down love, we’ve plenty of time!”

“Just – just get there!” He says, breathless. “ _Please?”_

*

It’s sweltering in the sports hall. They get their seats at just gone 15:35; relief washing over Harry as he finally sinks into the hard plastic chair and can breathe again.

The children are sitting on benches at the front of the hall, at the foot of the stage, and there are two chairs and a table full of certificates and goodie bags centre stage.

“There she is!” Anne hisses, clutching his arm and leaning over to wave at Luna, wearing her homemade mortarboard and sitting between two boys; one of whom is clutching a corner of blanket and looking very concerned.

When she spots them she jumps up and waves. “Nanny! Daddy!”

Harry feels a lump in his throat form automatically as he sees her. He waves back and wraps his own fingers around his mums as she continues to clutch at his arm. “She looks lovely today, Harry.”

“Thanks. I can dress her nicely when I have to!” Harry smiles softly as he looks at Luna in her blue flowery dress, white leggings and little patent Mary-Jane’s. She swings her legs and chats to the boy next to her with the blanket, even putting her arm around him at one point. Harry feels so proud he could burst.

He discreetly looks around for Louis but as expected and anticipated, he is nowhere to be seen. He’ll text him later. In fact, he’s itching to text him _now_ but he can’t.

They go alphabetically by first name, so there is a bit of a wait to get to the L’s. Harry and Anne watch as the other kids trundle up onto the stage to collect their certificate and goodie bag; some more confidently than others. Harry’s excitement begins picking up again as they round off the K’s with Kristian and begin the L’s. Leah, Lenny, Libby, and Lucie go up, and then it’s Luna’s turn.

Harry’s heart flips behind his rib cage as, pleased as punch, as ‘Luna Styles’ is announced and Luna springs up off the bench and totters around to the stage steps. One of the teachers holds her hand as she climbs the wooden steps and then she marches across the stage to collect her things from Carmen. Carmen shakes her hand and Luna doesn’t falter once. Harry captures the whole thing on video on his phone and his mum is snapping pictures at his side that he will send to himself later.

As with the other children, Carmen asks Luna to point to where her ‘special adults’ are, and she points at Harry and Anne, giving them a big wave and a ‘hiya!’ that stings Harry’s eyes with tears as he waves back. She exits stage left and they have the rest of the alphabet to go through.

Luna sits nicely the whole way through, fiddling with the handle of her goodie bag and only getting up out of her seat once, and after the certificates have all been given, they all sing several songs. She doesn’t give them quite the display she’d been promising, but she does wiggle her hips and wave her arms _almost_ in time to the rhythm.

The temperature in the hall is almost at breaking point by the time the children are dismissed, and Luna is clammy and warm underneath the band of her mortarboard. “Hi love, you did so good up there!”

“Did you see me dance?” Luna asks. “Did you see me cer-tifi-cate? I got a hat, daddy!”

“I know, you look so smart!” Harry says, pulling her onto his knee and pinning her into a tight squeeze. He takes a second to peer over her shoulder for Louis, but still nothing.

“Do I get to go home now?” Luna asks, looking up at him with her wide eyes.

“Yeah, do you want to go to Nanny’s house for a bit? Play in the garden?”

“Yeah!” She hollers enthusiastically. Getting towards the exit is a job in itself and Anne heads out first to get back to the car. Harry leads Luna towards the exit by her shoulders, lost in a sea of parents and kids.

The kids in front of them are saying their goodbyes to the teachers, high fives and hugs and fist bumps galore. As they get nearer to the front, Luna says goodbye to Lauren and high fives with Rachel. He nearly loses her in a crowd of kids surging through the door, and at the last minute he sees a familiar smile.

 _Hi,_ Louis mouths across the crowd, giving him a discreet smile. Harry smiles back, so pleased to see him.

“Luna, come back over here babe!” He calls to her. “Do you wanna say bye to Louis?”

Luna beams when she sees Louis and scampers over to him. “Bye Louis!”

Harry isn’t prepared for Luna and Louis’ cuddle. He crouches down to her level and gives her a wide grin. “C’mere Miss Looney Toons!” He holds his palm up for a high five and then she throws herself into his arms, wrapping her hands tight around his neck like a scarf. His hands on her back look so gentle and soft and delicate and he smiles with his chin on her shoulder. As they separate, he smoothes down her blonde curls and tells her, “Keep practicing your footie, and be a good girl for Daddy and enjoy big school, okay?”

“Okay!” She chimes. “Will I see you at big school?”

“No, chick, not at big school. But-” His eyes hover over to Harry with a smile. “You might see me somewhere. Maybe the park or the shops?”

“Okay! Bye Louis!” Luna hurries towards the door, taking advantage of a break in the crowd. Harry lingers on Louis for a moment, his heart having quadrupled in his chest. There’s so much he wants to say, and he doesn’t want the image of the two of them together to fade. He continues to stare at Louis, dumbfounded as he comes off his knees and back to full height. Luna’s urgent voice sounds again and breaks him from Louis’ spell. “C’mon Daddy, let’s go Nanny’s house, _come on!”_

“I’ve gotta…” he says, quietly, for Louis’ ears only.

“See you soon.” Louis mouths back, nodding minutely.

Harry nods, helpless. He just wants to hold Louis, say a proper goodbye. It’s been a week without Louis; texts and the occasional ten second window at pick up time hasn’t been enough. He can’t stop his hand from reaching out towards Louis, like it’s a natural reaction. He manages to catch himself before they actually make contact though. Louis watches him closely as he turns to leave. “Bye, Lou.”

“Bye love.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All together now......: N'AWWWWWW!!!! :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I agonised over this for a long time, especially the smut. I re-wrote it from a million different angles and I’m still not 100%. I have zero experience in that area so if there are GLARING inaccuracies I am so so sorry!
> 
> I feel a little bit like a lot has been crammed into this 19k or so update, but some of the comments said it was moving a bit slow so hopefully no one minds.
> 
> Please enjoy!
> 
>  

 

“I _don’t_ want _to_!”

Luna has her arms folded firmly across her chest and she’s lying diagonally over the sofa; her head tipped over the edge and her feet kicking the back of the sofa.

The summer holidays had been hell with no preschool to send Luna to, and he’s only three weeks in. Half way, which should be a small consolation, but with Luna screeching in his ear and eight thirty fast approaching, he doesn’t have time for anything but blind rage and panic.

“C’mon, Lune, you love going with Auntie Gems, you _love_ Auntie Gems!”

“I wanna stay with _you_!”

“No, I’ve gotta go to work, Luna. I’ll be home as soon as I can and I’ve got next week off to be with you.”

“No, now!” Luna says petulantly, pummelling her feet against the back cushion of the sofa.

“I can’t now, Luna, I’ve got to go to work.” Harry repeats for what feels like the millionth time. “Now come on!”

Between his mum, Gemma and James and even his poor old Nan on one occasion, Harry had managed to fashion an itinerary for Luna’s care so far. This week was all over the place though; Monday with Gemma, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday morning with his mum then out with Uncle James, then Friday begins Harry’s eight days off. After that, there is only one week to worry about, followed by Bank Holiday Monday and then Thursday Luna starts school. Harry is still conflicted about _that_.

“Luna!” Harry snaps again when the little girl just continues to stare resolutely up at the ceiling, unmoving. “Right! C’mon, up!”

He scoops her up off the sofa and plonks her down on her feet with an abrupt little stomp. He thinks for a moment she is just going to sink to the floor, and she wobbles but she doesn’t fall down. “You’re being so rude!”

“So are you!” Harry argues back, breaking yet another parenting rule about not arguing with a four year old, and forces her feet into her Skechers.

“I don’t like these anymore, they’re broken!”

“They’re still fine, Luna, it’s just the lights.”

“They’re _broken_!” Luna repeats herself, stepping one foot away as Harry tries to reach for it. “I want to wear my Princess Elsa slippers!”

“You can’t wear slippers, they’re for inside only.”

“Don’t care!” Luna says huffily, stilling her foot finally but swaying her upper body so she bangs into Harry’s head with her tummy as he kneels down trying to get her feet in her shoes. He mutters under his breath and feels anger rising up through his limbs but he manages to keep his cool.

They compromise and he lets her take her Frozen slippers with her to Gemma’s house. His sister has been sat downstairs in her car kerbside for almost ten minutes by the time they finally ascend the stairs and pour out of the main doors.

“Auntie Gem-Gem!” Luna squeals, dropping away from Harry’s side and racing over to the car. She pulls open the back passenger side door and scrambles into her seat, Harry following behind to strap her in. He gives Gemma a terse greeting as he does, already looking forward to getting back into bed that evening.

“You looked stressed Little Brother,” Gemma observes as he flops into the front passenger seat and whacks the back of his head against the headrest.

“Hmm,” Harry sighs curtly. “Blame your darling niece.”

“Oh dear, you bein’ a monkey, Luna Flower?” Gemma eyes Luna in the back, who just smiles sweetly, kicking her legs into the back of Harry’s seat.

“No, Daddy being mean, won’t let me wear my slippers!”

“I packed them for you Luna, chill.”

“Harry, calm down love, look let’s going. Get you to work.”

He’d only remembered to tell Mikey an hour ago that he would be getting in a lift with Gemma. Mikey sounded like he might not quite believe him, and given his dwindling presence in the van most afternoons Harry doesn’t blame him. He thanks Gemma and kisses Luna in a flurry before jogging up to the prefab to dump his bag.

“Getting dropped off by your sister is a lot of effort to go to t’hide a secret girlfriend, y’know!” Dean remarks as he and Mikey stand propped up by their shovels eyeing him. He approaches cautiously and tries a haughty laugh.

“Even if I did have a secret missus, you gits would never meet her!” Harry says, and that’s not technically a lie. They won’t meet his girlfriend, because he doesn’t have one. His boyfriend, on the other hand… no, still probably not for a while.

“She must be a munter!” Sam appears, giving his two-penneth on the situation and Harry stills. Even though there isn’t even a girlfriend for him to defend, he feels defensive and pretty disgusted at his comment. Dean and the other lad titter stupidly and Mikey’s face falls back into sullen neutrality. Good old Mikey.

 _’There is no secret girlfriend, there’s a secret boyfriend and he’s bloody gorgeous, not that you sods could recognise that, so shut your mouths,’_ Harry feels like saying. just dropping the bomb, but instead Jamie speaks before he can.

“C’mon lads, Haz’s already late, let’s get to work yeah, you lazy fuckers!” Jamie lifts his shovel out of the soil and smacks Dean on the bum with the flat side. “You gossips can natter at break time.”

Harry catches Mikey’s eye with a sincere look as they disperse. Neither of them says anything but Harry thinks Mikey knows what he’s trying to say.

 

*

 

As Luna was safely offloaded to Gemma, there wasn’t so much of a rush after work and Louis was there to pick him up. Harry trudged along the dirt track to the main road in the dusty shadow of the van, not lifting his head for one moment.

Harry knew he couldn’t keep this hidden for long. Some days he was there in the van at four o'clock, other days he made his excuses. There was no pattern to it just yet. Yes, he felt bad lying to Mikey, but he tried to justify it with the fact that it wasn’t pure, unadulterated lying, more just bending the truth. When Mikey asked him if he had someone picking him up, he said yes. It wasn’t a lie; he _did_ have someone picking him up. He let Mikey come to his own conclusions and assume Harry had a girlfriend, but the way that Mikey didn’t ask questions or push for details had Harry curious. Nevertheless, when the familiar smell of the air freshener hanging from the mirror in Louis’ car hits him, he forgets all about his troubles because here is his boy.

Inside the car, the effect of the long break away from work was evident in Louis; his hair pushed back off his face under a stretchy black headband and he _still_  hasn’t shaved from when Harry had seen him middle of the previous week. He had been very fuzzy-faced then, and now his beard is impressive; connecting his jawline with his sideburns and tucking neatly across the bow of his upper lip. It snagged when they kissed and brushed against him when they cuddled, and  that was perhaps the most exciting part for Harry; because it was so new and so different, still almost unexpected.

Louis’ eyes were hooded and he looked so soft in jersey shorts and a white round neck tee with ‘t-shirt’ stitched into the breast. Harry snorts when he sees it. “T-shirt?” He huffs. “Nice ‘t-shirt’ t-shirt, love.”

“You may mock me, young Harry, but this cost ninety-five quid!”

“You paid ninety-five quid for a t-shirt that has ‘t-shirt’ on it?”

“Uh,” Louis looks sheepish. “Well, kind of. I _didn’t_ necessarily buy it.”

Harry blanches as he wonders what Louis is insinuating. The other man catches his eye at that moment and leaps to clear his name. “No, no, not like _that_! I didn’t steal it, I just uh… well it doesn’t matter.”

Harry isn’t sure how to feel as he realises Louis is probably saying an ex bought it for him. Harry isn’t stupid nor is he naïve; Louis is gorgeous, and he’s friendly and sociable and gorgeous, it would be insane to try and pretend he didn’t have a past. “Is it from an ex?”

“Kind of.” Louis admits, and Harry’s uneasy feeling subsides just a tiny bit when he sees Louis’ features twist into a look of discontent. “My ex, he’s the regional manager for Rag and Bone in Selfridges. He used to uh, get me stuff. Sorry, I didn’t… it’s just a t-shirt.”

“I know,” Harry has to laugh. He reaches over and runs his index finger over the lettering. “It says it right there.”

Louis snorts too and the mood lifts. Honestly, who is Harry to get himself tied up over people’s pasts? He’s the one in this relationship who has a bloody daughter, for God sake. “I didn’t mean to sound like a weirdo.”

“You didn’t love. First time talking about exes is a bit weird at the best of times. Let’s just leave it at that, shall we?”

Harry nods earnestly. “Yeah. I’ve got no room to talk, so…”

True to his word, Louis leaves it at that. They agree to go back to Harry’s flat, as its closer and because they’ll be pressed for time later trying to get back in time for Luna arriving home.

“You sure you don’t mind?”

“Haz, if I minded I wouldn’t offer would I, you daft sod. C’mon.” Louis starts the engine to silence Harry’s polite stalling. “Just direct me.”

Harry smiles, rolling his eyes as Louis starts off up the road in entirely the wrong direction. “Better turn at the end of this road, I live t’other way, love.”

Louis rolls his eyes but goes all the way round the roundabout at the end of the lane and back on himself. The journey is stressful. Harry has never concentrated so hard on not mixing up his lefts and his rights; he can’t focus on anything but the sights whizzing past them as he manages to successfully direct Louis all the way to his flat.

Louis parallel parks in a space no other person would even attempt, and Harry is surprised to find that such a turn on. Apparently, he’s a car guy now too. He’s sure it’s just his imagination but he can practically feel all eyes on them from the surrounding windows as he leads the way up the path to the door. His hands are clammy and hot as he tries to get his key in the lock of the main door, and it feels like he might drop them but finally he stabs it through on the second attempt.

He cringes as Louis follows him up the steps, his legs like lead weights and his arms light like helium balloons. It’s a very unnerving combination. He’s got another struggle on his hands opening his front door, Louis stepping back a bit as if he can sense Harry’s unease.

“Alright love?” He whispers behind him, but Harry hardly hears him. Blindly, he nods and forces the door open with his shoulder. He knows he didn’t leave too much of a mess, but in that moment he can’t remember a thing from that morning.

“Come in,” Harry says sheepishly into his shoulder, holding the door open for Louis who steps in behind him. In the confined space of the entry porch, all Harry can smell is Louis’ aftershave and it’s suddenly too much but not enough at the same time.

“I love it already,” Louis remarks as he steps his first foot into the front room. He wanders around the room almost in a daze, Harry bemused at his reaction.

“It’s just a front room,” Harry points out, modestly.

“It’s proper, like, homely though.” Louis counters, running his hand over the back of the sofa and stepping over to the fireplace where a mixture of mess and photos adorn the mantelpiece. Between the photos in a random assortment of frames are hair ties, Kirby grips, a mini tub of glittery purple Play Doh, an opened packet of mini chocolate Hobnobs and about 17p in change.

Luna’s toys are stacked up in the corner; her pretend play plastic food close to spilling out of her plastic shopping basket, her plastic kitchen and her train track and a massive teddy bear wearing a red bow-tie occupy the corner.

“Ah, nice bear! I got ones like that with red bow ties for Dais and Pheebs last Christmas.”

There is a fine smattering of dust over the TV screen, Harry notices as the afternoon sun catches it, and he can see sticky Luna sized fingerprints over the power button. He probably could have done with five minutes to hoover and straighten the rug, smooth down the net curtain that is pushed back from Luna ducking under it to watch Gemma out the window, but the look on Louis’ face makes everything pale into insignificance.

“It’s so nice; warm and cosy. I could just stay here forever. Look, you’ve even got blankets!” He muses, running his fingers through the fleece blanket draped over the back of the three seater couch.

“Great for cuddling.” Harry says, not really meaning to imply what he was implying, but not concerned either. Louis wiggles his brows and eyes Harry side on.

And so, with cups of tea sitting on the edge of the coffee table in front of them, Harry indulges Louis and they sit together in the crack between the sofa cushions, one fleece blanket draped over their legs and one fleece blanket around their shoulders.

Even though it’s August and quite warm still, Louis fits so perfectly into the crook of his arm Harry doesn’t want to move him. His head rests in the junction of his neck and his shoulder and Harry breathes in his scent, the top of his head just level with his nose. He’s not weird at all.

“How long do we have?” Louis asks sleepily.

Harry tips his head back to look at the clock on the wall behind them, reading the time upside down. “Umm, like forty five minutes or so? Gems will text me before they leave.”

“Okay love.” Louis nods softly and nuzzles his cheek against Harry’s chest further, as if he’s trying to melt into him. “This is so nice, y’know? Just… here.”

Harry nods, and then remembers his words. “It is nice. I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“It might be a bit confusing for Luna, though.” Louis points out, though he sounds equally as reluctant himself. “Come home and find me here.”

Harry sighs, supposing this is true. “Maybe we should ease her in gently. Tell her we’re friends, first of all.”

“Maybe we might bump into each other somewhere during your week off work?” Louis says suggestively.

Harry lets out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, and maybe we might accidentally run into each other at the park or something?”

“That would be a curious coincidence, wouldn’t it?” Louis says back with his own nasally laugh. “D’you think she’ll be alright with it?”

“I can’t see why not. She loves you.” Harry says candidly. “I mean, she likes you a lot.”

“That’s good,” Louis says, and Harry can feel his smile. “I’ve had a bit of a head start though. That helped.”

“Well yeah,” Harry agrees. “I think she’d like you anyway though.”

“I hope so. I hope she doesn’t mind.”

“I want to tell my mum, too.” Harry says, and Louis lifts his head off his chest at that. The smile tugging at the corner of his mouth is almost giddy. “Is that alright? Is that what you want?”

“Of course I want that. As long as you want it, love. I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“I don’t, I just, I don’t want to freak you out. Talking about tellin’ me mum, introducing you to my kid, it’s all quite…. _heavy_  isn’t it? Don’t want you to get scared off. We’re only six weeks or so in, any other couple would be steering clear of things like that at this point.”

“Harry,” Louis says almost sternly. “If I didn’t want this and everything that you come with, I’d have run a mile when I realised who you were. But I didn’t. I want this. I want to be happy, with you. And Luna, if you’ll have me?”

“’Course,” Harry rasps, his voice caught between the back of his throat and the roof of his mouth. “I want that too.”

“Good,” Louis says with a dopey smile as he cranes his neck up for a kiss. “What about your mum? D’you think she’ll like me?”

“I think so,” Harry says, nodding. “I can’t see why not.”

“And because I’m not a girl? Think she’ll be surprised?”

Harry lets out a chuckle. “Yeah, probably at first but I don’t think she’ll be bothered, really. My cousin’s bi and no-one really batted an eyelid. Dunno if it might be different ‘cause I’m her son, but no, no I’m sure she won’t mind. She’ll probably be surprised, obviously, but…”

“Try not to think of it like a big ‘coming out’. Don’t make it into too much of a thing, and then you’ll be alright.”

“How did you? Come out, I mean.”

“God, lemme see… well I was fifteen. Year ten, God, that was a… it was a time, that’s for sure.” Louis laughs, and Harry gets the impression the wounds have healed now but are still sore sometimes. “I… a lad found out; nicked me phone off me and saw texts to another lad. Bloody dick pics, the lot. I couldn’t deny it. He threatened me for like… six months? Every time I’d put a foot out of line, he’d threaten to tell one person, that it would just spread, like the domino effect, y’know? Once one goes, they all follow. I was quite a d!ckhead in school, loud, stupid, disruptive so in the end I just snapped and came out myself, stop him before he could actually out me himself.”

“D’you think he’d actually do it?”

“I dunno now, maybe?” Louis sighs contemplatively. “At the time I was convinced he would. I’d freeze up every time my mum came back from picking up the girls ‘cause I was worried someone had told her. So I’m glad I got to do it myself, just wish it had been on better terms, y’know?”

“When did you tell her?”

“I told her the night before I did it. Mum said she had an inkling for a while,” Louis says. “Not sure what that means, but I mean, I never had a girlfriend, aside from Katie next door when I was seven. I tried to make myself fancy girls, force myself to look at boobs and all that but in the end, I realised I just wasn’t attracted to girls, that there was a difference between knowing a girl was pretty and wanting to go out with her.”

Louis stops to reflect longingly, and Harry doesn’t breach the delicate silence with his words that could never come close to being enough. “I cried when I told me mum!” Louis continues with a huffed laugh. “It was like, relief. I didn’t have to hide anymore, I could be me. She told the girls for me, and Lottie, only nine years old at the time mind, got out of her bed that night, like one or two in the morning, and just got in wi’ me, cuddled up an’ said ‘I’ll always love you, Lou’. Jesus, that girl is a gift, I swear.”

Harry nods, taking in everything, from Louis’ wistful words to his glassy eyes to his fading smile. Harry has to bat away a lump in his own throat as he says, “Your family sound lovely.”

“They are.” Louis nods, the promise that he’ll find out for himself soon going unspoken. “Tell me more about yours?”

“Well,” Harry starts with a deep breath. “There’s not that many of us, compared to yours. There’s me and Gem, her boyfriend James, my mum and Nan and that’s about it. Luna, obviously. I’ve got aunties and cousins on dad’s side but nothing on mums. Her side of the family was very small. James and Gem have been together for seven years, Luna loves him. My mum, Anne, she’s lovely. Never has a bad word to say about anyone, y’know? Proper positive.”

“Your dad?” Louis asks tentatively. Harry appreciates his concern, and he’s gathered from Louis that while he himself has been rich in step-fathers, he hasn’t known his real father at all.

“Left.” Harry says bluntly and Louis’ face caves. “When I was seven and Gems was ten. One day they sat us down and gave us the usual crap ‘we still love you both but we don’t love each other’, his stuff was gone by the end of the week and we’d see him every other, _other_  weekend. Now, we don’t see him at all. Not sure he even knows about Luna, unless my mum told him, but I doubt it.”

“That’s so sad,” Louis remarks, and Harry nods. “Bloody dads, eh? Oh, well, sorry, not you. You’re a good dad.”

Harry barks out a laugh that pierces the air as Louis fumbles over his faux pas. “I try to be the best I can, for Luna. She didn’t deserve how things happened, and if I’m the only parent she has then I wanna do it right.”

Louis nods, craning his neck back up for another kiss. “Seems to me like you’re doing a grand job, Hazza.”

“Thanks,” Harry says against his lips, feeling the blush rise.

They lie together on the sofa for another half an hour or so, chatting idly and breaking up the comfortable silence with kisses and sips of lukewarm tea. Louis’ leaving and Luna arriving home overlap by only a minute or two, and Harry wonders if they may even have driven past each other on the main road.

“Hi Daddy!” Luna’s voice comes screeching through the intercom. “I’m back, open the door please!”

Harry rolls his eyes at her and buzzes them in, hearing Gemma fussing over her and the main door slamming downstairs. Luna comes charging in, a withered Gemma behind him with her backpack and cardigan and a shopping bag from Aldi in her hand.

“What’s that?” He asks immediately, pointing at the bag.

“We went to the shops. She insisted that she likes these chocolate bars, so…” She holds the bag open and Harry peers in at the little chocolate covered discs decorated with Smarties.

“Oh yeah, she does. Sends her hyper, thanks Gem.” He says sarcastically, rolling his eyes yet again. Gemma sticks out her tongue and smiles as if to say ‘not my problem’ and goes through to the lounge.

“It smells of boy in here.” Gemma remarks, and Harry’s blood turns cold.

“Yeah, well I am a boy, in case you hadn’t noticed?”

Gemma stares back at him, silent for a moment. “Didn’t know you had Bleu de Chanel aftershave.” _Damn Gemma._

“Sorry, I didn’t realise you were the perfume police!”

“All right, touchy, just saying!” She sits down, slapping her thighs with her hands. “Put the kettle on then, kid!”

 

*

 

Thursday. It feels so good. The word sounds so good in his ears when he hears it on the telly on Good Morning Britain, and again on Radio one in the van, and in the mouths of his colleagues as they chatter.

Once today is over, he has ten days of freedom. Ten days of Louis, ten days of not setting his alarm, ten days of Louis. Did he already say that one? Right now, though, he has to get Luna ready to go to his mum’s for the morning, until midday when James is taking her to see the sheep being sheared at the farm. Riveting, Harry’s sure, but he can’t knock it as James is helping him out big time.

In stark contrast to the struggle of earlier in the week, Luna stands patiently by the front door in her Peppa Pig t-shirt and star print skinny jeans waiting for him. He grabs a Pot Noodle for lunch, chucks it into his rucksack along with his phone and a water bottle, and bangs out the door behind her into his mum’s car, Anne giving him a lift up to the end of the road to catch the van.

“’Ere ‘e is!” Mikey cheers when he climbs into the back seat, as if he hasn’t seen them for weeks, even though it’s only been a day. “Rugged, but he’s made it!”

Normally, no one noticed when Harry didn’t shave. _Harry_  didn’t notice when Harry didn’t shave, but he’d woken up that morning with the suggestion of a shadow on his upper lip and chin, and with his cement splattered clothes and unbrushed bun, he looked a bit worse for wear.

“Nice ‘stache, Hazza!” Dean quips.

“Leave him alone; he’s been growing that since he was six!” Mikey shouts, causing the whole van to erupt in laughter, even Steve in the driver’s seat’s shoulders bounce with suppressed laughter. Harry sinks further down into his seat, his cheeks crimson with embarrassment.

The weather, that had been steadily declining throughout August, is no better today, and his final day at work is littered with light showers resulting in puddles of sludgy, brownish-yellow mud. He pulls his hair into a tighter bun, channels of hair standing up and ridges forming where it needs washed and brushed properly, and the light shower soaks his bare arms, the warmth in the air meaning it’s too uncomfortably hot to wear a hoodie.

Raindrops catch in his eyebrows and drip onto his eyelashes. He blinks them away and tries to concentrate on the garden patios he is supposed to be mapping out. He’s been working on this for bloody weeks now; he can recite the measurements in his sleep and quite often finds ordinary square shaped objects morphing into patio tiles before his very eyes.

Harry tries to reassure Louis that he’ll get the van home. He doesn’t want to impose or be a burden, but mostly he’s not keen on Louis seeing him like this; bedraggled and hair completely turned to ringlets around his hairline, but despite his reservations, he gets into Louis’ car at five past four.

“Don’t look at me, I’m a mess!” Harry clamps his hands over his face dramatically.

“No,” Louis says; Harry feels him twist a curl around his fingers. “I was just thinking how cute you look, those curls!”

Harry creates a gap between his two fingers and turns to look at Louis skeptically through them. “You’re just saying that ‘cause you have to.”

“I’m saying it ‘cause it’s true.” Louis corrects him, tilting his head and drawing Harry’s hands down from his face to hold. “On your ’olidays now, eh love? Happy days!”

Harry has to smile at how quintessentially Northern Louis is, even compared to him. Harry nods and smiles, “You shaved,” He says, almost sadly. He’d liked the beard.

“Yeah, unlike you,” Louis says cheekily, Harry feeling the want to defend his little struggling ‘stache. Louis starts up the engine and swings the car around on the gravel, the tyres squelching over the damp ground. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”

*

“I wish you di’nt have to go so soon,” Harry says as they sit together in Louis’ Audi outside his flat, the pitter-patter of rain decorating the gaps of silence between them. Harry’s tummy twists itself easily into knots and his muddy knee throbs where he’d been kneeling on it all day.

“Me too,” Louis agrees, morosely and scratchily. “Maybe we can spend the day together Sunday or Monday maybe?”

Harry nods, very keen. “Yeah, I’d like that. I’m gonna, I’m gonna tell Luna tonight about you, give her some idea so she’s not full of questions when we meet up.”

“She likely still will ask a million questions.”

“True.” Harry laughs. “Once she knows, we can be a bit more relaxed about seeing each other.”

“Definitely,” Louis agrees. “I’d like that.”

“So…” Harry says after a beat. “I guess this is it for now?”

He sees Louis nod in the corner of his vision but for some reason he can’t look. “Not long, eh, and we’ll see each other again.”

Harry nods this time, feeling pathetic. He risks a look up and automatically smiles at Louis, it’s like a reflex. “Kiss?”

Louis smiles, letting a puff of air down from his nose. “C’mere you big lummox!” He wraps a hand around the back of Harry’s neck, seemingly unbothered as a tendril of damp curl wraps itself around his thumb, and pulls Harry in for a kiss. His lips and the tiny spills of breath the come from him are warm and make Harry want to shudder in the best way possible. He kisses so soft, and although it’s only been three days it feels like a lifetime since these lips were his.

“See you soon, love.” Louis whispers once they’ve broken apart, noses slotted in next to each other and foreheads pressed together, just the right amount of pressure.

“Yeah, bye Lou.”

“Bye, love.”

 

*

 

“Daddy?” Luna questions him closely. It’s now getting on for 8pm and bedtime is fast approaching, much to Harry’s relief. There is only so much Ben and Holly one can watch before one starts to go clinically insane.

“What’s up babe?” He asks, inviting her in to sit on his lap. She does so accordingly, scrambling on and digging her heels into his thigh in the process.

“What does ‘luh’ ‘uh’ ‘ooh’ spell?”

“No babe, it’s L-” Oh. Oh! Harry hadn’t realised, he hadn’t been expecting this. “Uh, why do you wonder that, sweetheart?”

“I seen it on your phone when I was playing games and I saw it with a pretty sunshine and a love heart. It’s so pretty! I know the ‘luh’ for Luna, but the other ones…”

“Um, yeah it’s ‘luh’ for Luna, what’s ‘oh’ for, do you know?”

Luna looks at him with a furrowed brow and pursed lip for a moment before making a circle with her hands and saying “Octopus!”

“Yeah, well done!” Harry has to smile, bloody octopus. “And what about ‘uh’ what letter is that for?”

“Uh-uh-uh…” Luna repeats, testing it out on her tongue. “I dunno!”

“Umbrella!” Harry coaxes. “’Uh’ for umbrella!”

“Oh!” Luna nods as if she understands him. “I’m a Silly Billy!”

“So what do you get when you put those three letters together? L-O-U?”

“Lou?” Luna finally says, looking a bit perplexed. “Luna?”

“No, not Luna, say Luna but stop before you get to the ‘na’. Lou. Short for Louis.”

“I’ve got a teacher called that!” Luna exclaims, lighting up when she realises.

“I know, it’s the same one.”

“Whaaa-aaat?” Luna asks, all comical with big wide eyes and a curious grin. “Is him your friend like Mikey? I didn’t know that!”

“Well, he’s my new friend. I made friends with him a while ago. We haven’t been friends as long as Daddy and Mikey but Louis is my friend now, too.”

“So was him your new friend when we were at my grad-oo-ation?”

“Yeah, we made friends just before your graduation, doll.” He clarifies. “Is that all right?”

“Yeah,” Luna says cautiously. She’s looking at him funny and a million different scenarios play out in his mind, each more horrific than the first.

“You sure?” Harry asks slowly, his heart hammering erratically in his chest. Luna looks at him, that same studious, analytical look in her green eyes.

“Well done, Daddy!” Her face illuminates and she smiles broadly. “Well done for making a new friend, that’s very good!”

Harry has to laugh. The relief is immense, and someday finally revealing the entire truth to Luna doesn’t seem so daunting anymore. Harry feels securely optimistic that she will be fine, maybe even happy.

Louis is happy to hear it when he texts him later that evening.

_‘I told her. She told me she was very proud I’d made a new friend ha x’_

_’Awww! What a doll, im chuffed she took it so well love xxx’_

_‘Think she’ll be suspicious if we were to run into you at the park? xxx’_

_’I think it’s worth the risk! Sunday at about lunchtime? Half twelve? xxx’_

_’Can’t wait xxx’_

_’Nor me xxx’_

 

*

 

Luna wakes at half past _ten_  on Friday morning; Harry jolts out of bed with a fright when he sees the sunshine filtering in through his thin curtains and hears the birds chirping. He bursts through Luna’s bedroom door, causing the little girl to jump out of her skin.

“Daddy?” She murmurs, propping herself up on one arm and rubbing the sleep from her eyes with the other hand. “What you doing? Am I in trouble?”

“No, no!” Harry breathes, relief washing over him. He wills his heart to slow down as he crosses the assault course of toys and strewn clothes that is Luna’s bedroom and plops down on the edge of her bed. “What do you want to do today?”

“Can we go see Nanny?”

“But you’ve been with Nanny lots this week. Daddy’s on holiday now, how about we do something just me and you?”

“Do you have money?”

Harry chuckles. “Yes,” He reaches out to smooth over Luna’s wayward curls and he suspects he probably looks pretty much in the same state. “Where do you wanna go?”

“N’aquarium!”

“The aquarium?” Harry repeats with excitement in his voice that sets Luna going. “That would probably be really fun! Do you think you can eat up all your breakfast so you’re strong enough to go?”

“Yeah!” Luna dives out of bed, running straight for the kitchen and hovering by the treats cupboard.

“No choccy for breakfast, Lune, got to have something proper! How about eggs or cereal or toast?”

“Nutella on toast!! Narna Nutella, _please_ Daddy?”

Harry sighs reluctantly but sets about chopping slices of banana to go on top of Luna’s Nutella on toast. She eats it all up, though, and Harry feels it’s easier to fill her up with chocolate based breakfasts than argue about trying to get her to eat Cornflakes or Cheerios.

Luna moves seats on the bus every time it pulls up to a bus stop, until eventually the bus is too full and a woman with a shopping trolley and a brightly coloured floral coat goes to sit next to her and she peers up at Harry with a look of horror. She scrambles past the lady as she goes to sit down and Harry has to mumble a hurried, embarrassed apology as Luna crashes back into the seat next to him and tucks her chin into his chest.

“That will teach you to keep seat-hopping!” He whispers into her temple as she pouts and makes an indignant noise.

The bus stop nearest to the aquarium is the last one before the town centre, and they have a ten minute walk ahead of them. Luna does well and holds his hand the entire way there, pointing at the other buses going past, asking him if that’s the same bus they just got off. It never is.

By the time they approach the entrance to the aquarium, Harry is surprised Luna hasn’t worn herself out talking yet. She drops his hand and skips ahead of him towards the door, stopping by a sandwich board out the front with pictures of shimmering fish in glittering blue water.

“Hurry up, Daddy!” She calls to him, beckoning him forward with her whole arm. He picks up the pace slightly, joining her eventually at the main entrance. The tickets are £9 for kids and £11 for adults; Harry feels his wallet get significantly lighter as he grudgingly swipes his debit card over the contactless screen.

The tour guide sets him back another £3.50 and he silently warns Luna that she’d better read every bloody word and look at every bloody picture for the next year to make it worth the money. She clutches it as they wander around the aquarium; after a loo break they wander round to the first exhibition where the frogs, tadpoles and turtles are.

“Look Daddy, it’s you!” Luna says, pointing out a large frog squatting on a leafy rock.

“Hey, what do you mean that’s me? Why am I a frog?”

“’Cause you got funny sticky out legs like him!” Luna says, laughing as if it’s the most logical comparison in the world.

“Oi, I do not look like a frog!” He argues back as Luna laughs at him. She holds out her hand for him to take and leads him through a narrow brickwork tunnel with information posters dotted about at eye level. He eyes some fierce looking eels and stingrays that he would rather not think too hard about. He clutches Luna close as memories of Steve Irwin flash through his mind.

In the next section is a wide variety of bright coloured, graceful ocean fish and seahorses. Harry has always found something so captivating about seahorses; they’re like curly little aliens. He wonders what they feel like to touch; if they’re smooth or slimy, rigid or fleshy.

He takes about a million pictures trying to get a decent image of ‘Dory’ from Finding Dory at Luna’s request. Not being able to use flash because of the bounce back, he struggles to get an image that isn’t grainy and blurry and dull, but he manages to get a few good ones, before hand in hand they wander through to the shark tanks.

Luna doesn’t like the sharks too much, clinging to his leg as he tries to get her to look at the animals.

“Look up Luna, look at the sharks; they’re not going to hurt you.”

“They’re too scary!” Luna trills over and over as she clings to his leg and burrows her face into his hip. “I wanna go!”

Harry can feel warmth against his leg, seeping through his jeans, and he drops to his knees to talk to Luna face-to-face.

He nudges the little girl's chin up with the crook of his finger and forces her to look into his eyes. Her eyes are shot and only tiny little rims of green remain, the whites are now pink and the threat of tears hovers in her waterline.

“They’re behind glass baby, they won’t hurt you. Besides, I’m here and you know I’d never let anything bad happen to you, right?”

Luna looks at him sombrely for a moment, but then nods with a sniffle. Her nose is all red and shiny, her cheeks pink and her lip jutting out in a sad pout. He reaches up to wipe her nose with his sleeve. “C’mon, why don’t we have a nice cuddle and look at them together, yeah?” He says softly, running his thumb back and forth over the same patch of skin on her arm as he waits for her answer. She nods minutely and he smiles widely, to reassure her. “That’s my girl, c’mon!”

He folds himself back up to full height and leads Luna by the hand over to the benches that run down the middle of the walkway. He sits down on the wooden slat bench and pulls Luna onto his lap. She sits on his left knee and dangles her legs across to the right. Her brings one arm around her back and grasps her knees with the other, sheltering her in his arms. “Look up, Lune.”

He coaxes her gently. He looks up himself at a massive shadowy shark just passing over the glass archway majestically. Luna won’t look at first; she keeps her head burrowed into his chest, her little heart beat tangible through her ribcage. “Come on sweetheart, they won’t hurt you. C’mon, let’s lie down.”

He reclines back on the bench, uncomfortable as hell, but he tucks Luna into his side and points out the marine life that float around above their heads; a big old beast with a white underbelly and nose jutting out over its mouth. “Look, that ones the daddy shark, I think. Can you find his baby?”

Luna peers up tentatively, braving her first look. Her eyes bulge and Harry thinks for a moment she is going to cry, but she slowly begins to smile and her little arm comes up, finger pointed towards a smaller shadow of animal moving across the arch. “I think that’s the baby, Daddy!”

Harry follows her purple painted fingernail to where she’s pointing out the smaller shark moving its way nearer to the glass. It bumps its nose against the surface and then stalks away again, silent and graceful. A trail of bubbles follow its slowly swishing tail as it moves over to the other side of the glass. “See, you’re such a brave girl, I knew you would be.”

He catches the eye of an older couple passing by smiling at him fondly, and the woman in the couple touches the arm of her husband softly and nods her head towards them. He smiles politely then tilts his head down to Luna. “You ready to move on to the next bit babe?” He whispers softly in her ear.

She shakes her head. “Wanna stay at this bit for a bit longer please.”

Harry smiles and indulges her. They stay lying on the bed for another few minutes, the relaxing lilt of the water catching the light enough to send him to sleep. Getting back up eventually hurts his back and he feels well and truly like an old man as he heaves himself up and follows Luna into the next exhibit on shaky legs.

The next section is the living corals, and Luna is _thoroughly_  uninterested in that. He tries to get her interested in it and turns to the double page spread in her tour guide, trying to get her to realise that these funny looking rock things are actually real, but as they’re not brightly coloured fish that move around, she isn’t interested.

It’s 2pm by the time they get to the end of the exhibitions. They’ve watched a short film about dolphins and Luna submitted her colouring in of an underwater scene to be put up on the wall in the restaurant. After another wee break he follows Luna morosely into the gift shop, preparing himself mentally to part ways with yet more cash.

She takes almost twenty minutes to choose and changes her mind three times, but Luna eventually comes away with a plush toy shark called Sammy and a sea life colouring book and pens with little octopi on them. Harry manages to coax her away from the restaurant; one look at the board above the tills tells him all he needs to know when he sees £6.50 for a hotdog _without_  chips.

Outside, the streets are still bustling; kids and buggies and armfuls of shopping bags everywhere. They stop at Subway for lunch and pop into Tesco on the way home to get chicken strips for tea. By the time they finally flop down in their seats on the bus at quarter to five, Luna is almost like a zombie she is so tired.

“Tired, love?” He says softly as she slouches against his arm. He pulls it out and wraps it around her shoulders, feeling the warmth seeping out of her skin. “Cuddle in to Daddy, we’ll be home soon.”

When they alight the bus, it’s with Luna slung over his shoulder, dead to the world and arms hanging limply over his shoulder, her rucksack and shopping bags in the crook of his other elbow, her stuffed shark tucked precariously under his other arm. He traipses towards his flat, his neck heavy and aching from trying to keep himself and all his baggage upright. The journey that usually takes ten minutes taken nearer to twenty, and when he finally get home his feet burn in his Converse and his shoulders scream to relax.

He drapes Luna across the sofa, the little girl not stirring as she comes off his shoulder and settles onto the sofa. He puts a cushion under her head and pulls the blanket off the back off the couch to cover her legs and body.

He has to take a load of laundry from the machine to the dryer, put away the bit of shopping from Tesco and get the bits for tea ready before he can sit down too. When he finally does fall onto the other sofa, he brings his legs up onto the seat cushion and lies on his side across the seats. He looks at his phone for the first time since he was taking pictures in the aquarium, and sees two messages from Louis.

_‘Miss you, can’t wait to see you Sunday xxx’_

The second one was simply the blowing a kiss emoji, sent twelve minutes after the first. Harry’s heart does a little somersault in his chest and he can’t help but smile at his phone.

_'Hiya love, sorry I’ve been gone all day, took Luna to the aquarium. She’s sleeping now and im too tired to get off sofa and make tea xxx’_

_’Oh no :( id cook for you if I could. Bet you’re planning something better than beans on toast tho xxx’_

_’Chicken nuggets and chips, don’t be jealous seriously xxx’_

_’Posh! When do I get MY dinner cooked for me? xxx’_

_’Soon! xxx’_

They continue to share a back and forth until Harry’s snorting and talking to himself wakes Luna from her slumber. She looks around the room in dazed confusion for a minute before rolling off the sofa and coming over to climb on top of him. “Alright love? Did you have a nice sleep?”

“I thought we were gettin’ on the bus?” She asks, dropping her head back onto his chest.

“No babe, we’ve been on the bus. We’re home now.”

She sighs and nods her head, not quite fully awake yet. They lie together for another fifteen minutes or so, Harry putting on the TV when requested to do so. Harry knows it’s risky letting her sleep so close to bedtime, but she’s so subdued and cuddly when she’s tired that he lets her, perhaps foolishly.

They eat tea together on the sofa under blankets, Harry sitting through two and a half hours of Peppa Pig, Dora the Explorer and Paw Patrol before he manages to coax her into the shower for a freshen up and finally into bed.

 

*

 

Saturday is quiet in comparison to their lively Friday, and Sunday is the day he’s really been waiting for. Harry is awake unfeasibly early. No sound comes from Luna’s room, so he lies in bed as still and as quiet as he can, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about today. It’s sunny outside already, thank God, the watery sun pushing through soft blue toned clouds to brighten the sky.

He thinks about texting Louis, but they’d been texting until almost 2am that morning and it’s only half eight now, he doesn’t want to wake him. Besides, he’ll be seeing him later. He rolls his own eyes at himself for how giddy that makes him feel, and turns over onto the empty pillow next to him. It’s cool in air and he imagines when he’ll be sharing this bed with Louis; hopes that they make it that far. Lying on his tummy, starfishing in the middle of his bed with his face smiling into his spare pillow, he feels content. Happy.

Forty-five minutes later, he and Luna are sitting in their pyjamas on the sofa, cross legged with plates of scrambled egg on toast and lashings of ketchup resting on their knees.

“Fancy the park today, Lune?” Harry asks, dipping the volume of the telly screeching back at them. Luna is currently back to being obsessed with Lady and the Tramp.

Her eyes light up and she abandons the forkful of egg and toast she was just about to eat. Damn. “Yeah! Can I take my football?”

“Yeah, I’m sure that will be okay.”

“Can we go now?”

“No, not yet babe. Let’s finish breakfast and get dressed. We’ll leave for the park at twelve, okay?”

“How long’s that?”

“An hour and twenty five minutes.”

“Oh, but that’s _aaaa-ges!_ ”

Turns out, it may be ‘aaaa-ges’ but they’re still rushed for time when it’s ten past twelve and they haven’t even left the flat yet. Luna has one sandal on and entirely mismatched leggings and top, and Harry is still panicking that the royal blue round neck and jeans he’s picked isn’t right.

Finally, with about thirty seconds to spare before Harry declares the day a write-off, they make it down the stairs and out the door. Luckily, it’s not really too far to walk, and when they’re crossing the path to get to the park, he gets a text from Louis saying he’s about ten minutes away, and sorry for the delay.

Harry laughs to himself and calms down, willing to pretend that they weren’t running later either just to save some face. Luna charges along ahead of him once they’re within earshot of the entrance to the park, and drops her football to the floor, sending it careering across the grass with a quite impressive kick.

They settle on a patch of grass just off to the side, a perfect view of the entry way and the adventure playground. Sitting down cross legged on the grass, Harry nods to Luna that she can run off to the playground. He watches as she unzips her hoodie, throws it haphazardly to the ground and clatters up to the top of the slide. She stares back at him to make sure he is watching and he gives her a thumbs up. Ecstatic, she throws two back and then goes flying down the slide.

Harry watches her do this four more times before she disappears from view for a minute and turns up again on the climbing frame.

“Careful!” He calls back, but she doesn’t hear him over her excitement. He watches her feet cautiously as she springs from one bar to the next, her little hands not looking strong enough to keep her up. She grins widely to herself from the top, Harry’s heart still in his mouth as he watches her begin to shimmy her way back down. She swings from the bars like a monkey, jumping down the last few feet on steady legs.

“Hey stranger,” Louis’ voice behind him interrupts his train of thought. He scrambles to his feet, going in for a kiss then remembering himself.

Blushing hard, he laughs awkwardly and they sit back down together. “Luna’s just over there.” He tells Louis, pointing towards the playground. Louis follows his finger and nods.

“I saw her when I was walking in. Can’t miss that big cheesy grin.”

Harry nods. “I thought you’d come from the other direction, I sat here so I could see you.”

“I like to keep you on your toes!” Louis says, reaching out to pick a daisy out of the grass. “No, I had to go via the shops. My cupboards are bare.”

“It’s a nice day today, isn’t it?” Harry says breezily, cringing at himself internally.

“Great small talk!” Louis snorts. “Is this your first time out of the house or something?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Very funny. Sorry I’m awkward. I don’t know what to do.”

“I wanna kiss you,” Louis says simply, softly, which did not help calm Harry’s nerves at all. Harry cheeks go even darker, if that’s possible. Louis leans forward, lifting off his bum slightly as he presses one chaste kiss to Harry’s lips. They giggle awkwardly like a couple of teenagers and Harry’s eyes flit over to Luna, who hasn’t noticed anything. Louis shuffles closer as they chat, Harry calming down when Louis takes his hands in his.

“Wonder if she’ll recognise me?”

“Course she will, it’s only been three weeks.” Harry reassures him. “You sure you want to do this?”

“Oh absolutely,” Louis says firmly. “I’ve missed the little diva.”

Harry chuckles at that, his lungs doing something very evil to him to make him feel like he can’t breathe for a moment. “She’ll be fine, won’t she?”

Harry hasn’t exactly been specific, but Louis nods immediately. “’Course she will, babe. She’s a smashing little girl.”

Harry blushes. He’ll _never_ tire of hearing positive things about his daughter. “She’ll probably be over in a minute. A million things to say.”

“What are we going with, just friends, for now?”

“Yeah, for now.” Harry nods, squeezing Louis’ hand with his own for reassurance. “I’ll tell her soon, I promise. I’ll tell everyone.”

“It’s fine love.” Louis comforts him. They chat for a while, Harry envious of Louis’ six weeks holiday, his own ten day break paling in comparison. There seems to be a lot of unspoken promise to spend more time together, and that gives Harry a rush. They drop hands with knowing little smiles as Harry spots Luna bounding over towards them.

“Daddy, did you see me on the slide? And I climbed up the- Oh, hi Louis!” Luna looks a bit puzzled as she notices Louis and realises who he is. “I didn’t know you were coming to the park again!”

“I saw Louis so I asked him if he wanted to come over and sit with us, is that alright?” Harry lies.

“I seen you at the park before, too!” Luna says, ignoring Harry’s question completely. “Do you live here?”

Louis laughs out loud. “No! I wish I did, it would be sooo much fun, wouldn’t it?”

Luna’s eyes sparkle. “Yeah! That would be so cool!”

“It would indeed. It might get cold at night though and you’d probably miss your bed, wouldn’t you?”

Harry sits and witnesses the back and forth between Louis and Luna; he’s sure he can feel the muscles of his heart pressing against his ribcage as it swells. He is vaguely aware of the words ‘ask Daddy’ and then both Luna and Louis are looking back at him. He shakes himself back into reality.

“Sorry, I was… what did you say?”

Louis smiles at him. “I was just saying, Luna asked if I’d play footie with her, I said to check with you.”

“Oh, uh,” Harry falters, not sure if he is ready to see this quite yet. “Sure, that’s completely fine.”

He feels absolutely one hundred percent deceased as he watches Louis dribble the ball carefully around their man made obstacles (using various items of their collective clothing). Louis is purposely wide on the ball so Luna can tackle it away from him easily, and he guides her shoulders as she weaves in and out of the makeshift markers with the ball. He cheers loudly for her when they move the jackets later on to form goal posts and she gets the ball between the posts on her first go.

Harry watches him as he jogs after the ball that Luna had sent flying.

“Do you wanna play, daddy?” Luna shouts across to him, holding out her arms. Dutifully, he scrambles to his feet and envelops himself in Louis’ grin as he returns with the ball, looking so pleased to see him.

“Wahey, Daddy’s up!” He says to Luna, tweaking her shoulder. “I bet Daddy’s well good at footie!”

“He’s not really!” Luna says candidly, and Louis honks out a laugh with a clap. “He knows keepie-uppies but that’s it. I know how to dribble and how to score.”

“I’m not that bad!” Harry tries to defend himself. “Gimme the ball, let’s play passing.”

They stand in a triangle, Harry at the top and Louis and Luna the two side points. They don’t stand too far from each other, to make it doable for Luna. Harry passes to Luna first. She scrambles out of position to get the ball and hoofs it across to Louis, going wide by a fair few feet. Louis reins it back in with one foot and twirls over the ball like a tracksuit bottom clad ballerina. He passes it swiftly to Harry and to his credit Harry manages to find the ball without falling over himself or it.

“See?” He drawls as he guides the ball to Luna. She is too busy sticking out her tongue to notice the ball, and it goes sailing past her. “Now who’s the one who’s rubbish at footie?!”

She scolds herself and scurries after the ball, grabbing it with her hands and throwing it under arm into the air. Louis goes for it first, catching it on the first bounce on his knee and then tucking his foot underneath it to keep it airborne.

“Show off.” Harry mutters, his grin giving him away.

“I’m hungry, can we get food, Daddy?” Luna asks not two minutes later.

“Yeah, what do you fancy?”

“Chips!” Luna says immediately. “McDonalds!”

“No, not McDonalds again!” Harry is quick to say. He doesn’t want anyone to think that’s all he ever feeds her. “We can go to a restaurant or something. Pub dinner?”

“Can Louis come?”

“Well, that depends if Louis wants to come.” Harry says, eyeing Louis with an insider’s grin. He hopes he’ll say yes. “You’re more than welcome to come if you’d like?”

“Well, I’d love to if there is room for me?”

“Yay!” Luna squeals, skipping off ahead of them.

“I’m having the best day,” Louis says softly to him, grabbing his arm as he straightens up from picking up the jackets and Luna’s rucksack.

“Me too,” Harry grins, accepting Louis’ hasty kiss upon his lips.

 

*

 

The pub is bustling by the time they get there, Sunday lunchtime and all that, but they are shown to a four seater booth style table in the corner and tucked away from the hustle and bustle it’s quite nice. Louis shoves along the leather upholstery to sit on the side facing the door, and before Harry can stop her, Luna is clambering in next to him.

“Lune, do you not want to sit next to me?”

“No!” Luna pouts. “Wanna sit with Louis!”

“Is that alright?” Harry asks, looking apologetically at Louis.

“’Course it is, I like sitting next to me ol’ mate!” Louis puts an arm around Luna and knocks their heads together gently. “Daddy does look a bit lonely on that side all by ‘imself, though.”

“Yeah, I feel very sad now.” Harry pouts theatrically for Luna’s benefit.

“It’s okay, Daddy!” Luna leans her whole body over the table and clutches his wrists. “I love you very much, Daddy!”

Harry laughs and catches Louis’ eye at the same time. “I love you too, baby girl.”

They order quickly, drinks arriving a few minutes later. Harry and Louis both sip Cokes while Luna devours her Fruit Shoot in about three seconds flat. Luna keeps Louis busy with the colouring activities on the back of the kid’s menu, giving him coloured pencils to colour with and asking (telling) him to draw different animals for her.

Harry tries in vain a few times to get Luna to back off a little bit but Louis insists he doesn’t mind. When their food comes, Luna stabs at her carrots with her fork and drips droplets of gravy down her top. He watches Louis as discreetly as he can, slow and methodical with the way he has a little bit of everything on his plate on the fork at one time, instead of going straight for arguably the tastiest part: the roast potatoes. Louis would argue that it’s actually the Yorkshire pudding, of course, but he’s biased.

“Don’t watch me eat,” Louis says primly under his breath and through a smile as he slides another mouthful off his fork with his teeth.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles, laughing softly and lowering his gaze to a nick in the wooden table top. Salt and the ripped off ends of ketchup packets litter the table top and he studies the little metallic ridges of the ripped off ends closely as his chest begins to constrict with how unprepared he was to feel this way.

Seeing Luna and Louis together is killing him, the way Louis is just so natural with her and friendly and patient. It speaks a lot to his abilities as a teacher, and for a moment Harry scolds himself for being surprised. But seeing it with his very own eyes is almost scary. Scary in the sense that he wants this forever. Is it too soon to be making sweeping statements like that? This feels right. It may look unorthodox but it feels right, and surely that’s all that matters?

He looks up to see Louis spearing a sliver of meat, a carrot and a bit of potato onto Luna’s fork for her, and his heart beats out of time. “There you go, sweetheart.” He hears Louis says softly to her, and she takes the fork dutifully, finishing the mouthful. In fact, she finishes all but one potato and a small floret of broccoli.

“Well done babe,” Harry smiles to her as he sees her push her plate away, cheeks stuffed full like a hamster. While they wait for pudding (Harry is sceptical that Luna will even touch her chocolate fudge cake, despite making _a lot_  of fuss for it), Luna crawls under the table to the other side and snuggles in next to Harry.

He tucks her into his side under his arm and runs his fingertips along her arm.

“Alright, love?” Harry mouths to Louis, who is slouched in his seat watching them thoughtfully.

Louis nods with a smile. He continues to watch them, Harry teetering between embarrassed and endeared, until the chocolate cake comes. Luna looks up when the waitress sets it down for her. Steam comes billowing off the chocolate cake and the little swirl of vanilla ice cream on the plate has already begun to melt.

“Enjoy, Little Miss!” The waitress says as she sets down a big shiny spoon on a napkin and hurries off.

Luna eyes the cake widely, sticking her finger straight into the ice cream. She eats the ice cream but only one bite of the cake, that Louis and Harry end up sharing. If their display is a bit friendlier than it should be, Luna doesn’t notice.

 

*

 

Harry and Louis pretty much don’t stop texting after saying goodbye at the pub on Sunday afternoon. His day with Luna on Monday is punctuated with conversations with Louis, ranging from the mundane chit-chat of everyday life to the cutest, sweetest little snippets of adoration and besottedness.

They spend Tuesday at Anne’s house. Luna is beside herself with joy to find that Anne has added purple and gold glitter to her water tray in the back garden. She races outside almost immediately. Harry curls himself into one of the seats around the kitchen table and watches as his mum stands at the window watching Luna, the soft smile on her face warm and glowing as she watches.

“She loves that! I got the idea off the Pinterest, y’know?” Anne says, turning to him brightly. Harry rolls his eyes and smiles back.

“You eco-mum, you.”

“There’s some lovely ideas on the Pinterest, you know? No end of possibilities, you should have a look!”

“Hmm,” Harry is unconvinced. He watches his mum wring out the j-cloth and hang it over the tap to dry. She takes her hand cream from the window sill and smoothes some into her hands. Harry can smell the camellia in the air.

Harry considers everything for a moment; it’s a nice, calm day, the weather is good and Luna is well. His mum seems happy; pay day is fast approaching again. With a confidence boosting little inhale, he gets up and wanders around the table to the kitchen countertop, hoisting himself up onto the counter next to where his mum stands. He reaches across to the fruit bowl on the window sill for a banana; his new found appreciation for phallic objects knows no limits.

“Mum, can I talk to you about something?” He says, taking another deep breath as his internal organs rearrange themselves. He sees his mum visibly freeze and cautiously she turns to face him, leaning back against the washing machine.

Slowly, she looks up. “Of course love. Is it about Luna?”

“No, not _directly,_ but it kind of affects her. Or it will do. Eventually.” Harry says, without taking his eye off the banana he is peeling with no actual intention of eating.

“Okay,” Anne says slowly dragging the end of the word out. Her eyebrows knit together. “What’s it about?”

"So it’s quite big. I think. It might be a bit surprising. I was surprised myself, ‘til I started to understand. I hope, well I hope you won't be upset or anything like th-"

"Harry!" His mum cuts him short, looking exasperated. "Love, less of the waffle, _please_! Spit it out, I'm about to have a heart attack here."

"Sorry, it's nothing bad!" Harry is quick to say, though the expression on his mum's face doesn't change. "Not really sure how to say it so I guess… I guess I'll just say it. I'm in a relationship."

"Oh. Oh! Thank the Lord!" The colour immediately starts coming back to Anne's cheeks. "Oh Harry, you scared me half to death, I felt sure you were going to say you had another baby on the way!”

“No, most definitely _not_!" Harry laughs; just 0.01% of the stress of finding out Claire was expecting coming back to him. He shudders and drops his shoulders, most of the tension gone.

"Well, I’m really happy you found someone, how long has this been going on?”

“Um, like a month, give or take?”

“A month?!” Anne asks, eyes popping. “You certainly kept that quiet!

“I wanted to see how it went first, didn’t want to jinx us.” Harry says. “I think we’re good, though.”

“Well I’m happy for you. Does she know about Luna? Luna is your first priority, sweetheart, don’t forget that.”

“I know, mum.”

“The poor little love has lived her whole life with just you in her life, someone else coming into her life and trying to play ‘mum’ might be hard for her. Have you introduced them?”

“They’ve met, yeah.” Harry says, feeling a slight tickle reach the corner of his mouth. “I don’t think they’ll try and be Luna’s mum, though.”

"Getting into a new relationship when you have a child is hard, Harry. Especially for the other person, she has to know that Luna is your priority and will always come first. Have you thought about this?” Anne says, folding her arms over her body as Harry struggles not to laugh. "Wait, why are you laughing at me?"

"Uh, it's… I don’t have a girlfriend,” Anne’s face quirks with confusion before she raises her eyebrows quizzically and begins to catch up. She opens her mouth to speak, smiling and Harry thinks she’d caught up. “Louis is my _boy_ friend.” He says, adding tentatively, “Surprise?"

His heart is hammering so hard in his chest it hurts to speak.

“Oh Harry love!" His mum rushes towards him, he slides off the unit in time for her to pull him into her arms, his four or five inch height advantage on her no match for her overpowering maternal happiness. "Darling, that’s such lovely news, I'm surprised but so happy for you!"

"Thanks mum." He says into her hair. She doesn't let him go for minutes, rocking him back and forth, side to side, one hand gently wrapped around the back of his head. "I wasn’t expecting it really, but it just kinda happened."

“I want to know everything!” Anne says excitedly when she finally releases him from her hug. “What’s he like, how did you meet? When can I meet him?”

“Calm down, mum!” Harry laughs. “He’s actually a teacher at Luna’s preschool. That’s why we waited a while, until Luna had finished. Just in case, y’know?”

Anne nods, and Harry marvels at how simple that explanation is and just why it took him so long to figure it out for himself. “So Luna already knows him?” Harry nods. “That will help. Does she know?”

“I’ve told her we’re friends. Haven’t quite got the next bit yet, I’m nervous.”

“You’re bound to be love; it’s a difficult thing, especially when it’s something out of the ‘norm’ like this.” She smiles almost sadly, as if that isn’t her own take on the situation but societies. “Obviously he’s not trying to be her mum, but where does he stand with regards to Luna?”

“We haven’t quite got there yet, mum. But like, they’re so good together. He’s great with her.”

“I’m sure in time it will all become clear.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. They both take a breather to watch Luna outside tipping glittery water out of an old lemonade bottle into the tray. Big wet patches on her front indicate a certain amount of spillage.

“So tell me more!” Anne says enthusiastically, holding his elbow warmly. “How did this happen? I had no idea!””

Harry bends the truth a bit for the next part, giving his mum an abridged version of the night they met.  “Louis recognised me on a night out, came up and said hello and… I didn’t know who he was at first, but then I kept seeing him when I picked Luna up, and then one day we saw him at the park with his little sisters and he, he gave me his number and…” Harry feels his cheeks burning with the unspoken implication of everything he isn’t saying. “Well, you know.”

“And is he nice, what's he like?"

"Nice," Harry says, and she gives him a look as if to say 'well duh'. With a soft giggle he elaborates. "Really nice. Funny. Good person. Good with kids, obviously. Sensible when he has to be. Very kind.”

Anne nods, her cheeks blown out as she lets out a long breath. “Wow, Harry, I must say he sounds like a dream. What aren’t you telling me?”

Harry laughs, knowing full well that Louis sounds too good to be true. “Honestly, he is a good person. I can’t find anything wrong with him.”

“When will you tell Luna?” Anne asks, her eyes darkening slightly.

Harry’s breath catches in his throat. “I… I’m not sure. I don’t want to scare her or, confuse her, y’know? She’s asked me a few times if mummy’s coming back, so I think she know something is changing. We’ve been to the park, the three of us, and we had a pub dinner after. He was lovely with her, he really was. Scared me a bit, I wasn’t prepared for that.”

“And she was good with him? Happy?”

“Yeah, fine,” Harry says. “It’s a big difference though isn’t it, she knows Mikey’s my friend and I see him sometimes but Lou’s gonna be around more than that. Might confuse her.”

“Poor little mite,” Anne looks back towards the window, watching Luna dragging her fingers through the glittery water. “Have you thought about how you’re going to break it to her?”

“Yeah, every day.” Harry confesses. “It keeps me up at night. I don’t want her to feel bad, I don’t want her to feel confused or that I don’t love her anymore or that I don’t love her as much, but I also don’t want to scare off Louis. I know she is my priority though.”

“If Louis is as great as you say he is, he’ll understand.” Anne says.

“I know,” Harry agrees, nodding. He does know that. He has every faith in Louis. “I think I’ll tell her soon. That way I can see them both together. I don’t like sneaking around, it feels dishonest.”

Anne beams at him, obviously proud. “My smart boy, you’re a real catch, I’m sure Louis feels so happy to have you.”

“Muu-uum,” He mutters, embarrassed. “You have to say that, I’m your son!”

“Regardless, you’re a good lad and an excellent father, I have every faith that you three will make it work.”

"I hope so. I hope she likes him too.” Harry says wistfully. The weight that has been lifted from his shoulders by telling his mum is such a relief, he can breathe a bit easier now. “She knows I love her, doesn’t she?"

"Of course she does, sweetheart. Anyone with eyes can see that you idolise that little girl. And if you need advice I'll do my best to help. From a parenting point of view I can help. The rest... I'll do my best."

"Cheers, love." Harry says brightly, lightening the mood. Anne rolls her eyes as they share another embrace.

*

_’I told my mum xxx’_

_’Well done love! I feel so official. What did she say? xxx’_

_’She’s proud and can’t wait to meet you haha xxx’_

Harry winces a bit at that, regretting sending it immediately. It’s surely too soon for that kind of talk? He holds his breath almost until Louis’ reply comes through three minutes later.

_’She will love me, I’m very charming, in case you didn’t know already xxx’_

_’I had an idea, yeah xxx’_

Harry feels relieved again. For every emotion that he has been through that day, relief is the one he keeps coming back to, and it feels good. They talk all evening, until Louis starts winding down at about half past midnight. His texts become more and more spaced out and Harry can feel his own eyelids getting heavy; the glow from his phone screen in the dark room stinging his peepers a bit.

_’Oh, and one more thing? x’_

Harry’s stomach lurches.

_’Yeah…? x’_

_’I’m proud of you too Hazza xxx’_

 

*

 

Gemma comes round the next day to drop off some of Luna’s things she’d left behind and the glint in her eye when he opens the door tells Harry all he needs to know.

“I’m so proud of you, Little Brother.” She says into his shoulder as she crashes into him in a huge cuddle. They stand in the hallway rocking back and forth in each other’s arms for what feels like minutes, and although they’ve always been a close family, Harry feels like he never wants to let his big sister go. “This is amazing news; I can’t wait to meet him.”

 

*

 

Harry decides he needs a little bit more of Louis on his own before introducing him to any more members of his family. Anne had agreed quite happily to have Luna for him on Saturday evening, and Gemma had been there when he’d dropped her off. The suggestive gleam in her eye was outrageous, and when Luna was out of the room she jumped onto his back and wrestled him to the floor, trying her hardest to wind him up with pathetic innuendos and implied references.

“Shut up!” He screams every time she opens her mouth, trying to cover her mouth with his hand. She cackles loudly and Harry giggles, rolling her onto the floor and pinning her down. “Stop it! Stop it, now!”

Louis had laughed when he told him about it.

“Think she was trying to be funny, trying to give me a birds and the bees talk.”

“Shouldn’t that be bees and the bees?” Louis questions, staring straight ahead at the road but deviating his gaze for one second to look at Harry and wiggle his eyebrows. “No birds here, mate.”

Harry giggles when he realises. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Bees and the bees.”

They complete the drive to Louis’ house in comfortable silence, the radio filtering out of the speakers around them, filling the gaps while Louis is concentrating on the road and Harry is staring out of the window at the grassy verge speeding past. Harry is starting to get familiar with this route now; they’d done it many a time from various starting points across town. As Louis slows down and the area around the gets more built up, the familiar, excited but nervy thrum in his veins begins to intensify. They get nearer and nearer to Louis’ house, and as he pulls into the street Harry feels like he’s about to vibrate right out of his skin.

His hand is on the door handle before Louis has even stopped. Louis smirks at him and rolls his eyes warmly as the engine cuts out automatically (posh) and he takes the key out.

“Home sweet home,” Louis says, and Harry finds himself nodding, remarking at a time when he’d hated Louis for implying that.  “Let’s get in.”

Harry follows Louis in, tugging his shirt down nervously with clammy hands that feel wobbly. He feels like a teenager with a crush, and when he realises that essentially that is what he is – minus the teenager part – he smiles to himself.

“What you grinning at, curls?” Louis asks, and Harry refocuses on Louis shouldering the front door open, looking back at him expectantly.

“Nothing, sorry.” Harry follows him in; the automatic air freshener goes off as he steps in and he jumps almost out of his skin at the unexpected squirting noise. Louis, typically, turns just at that moment to catch his embarrassing jump, and bursts out laughing with a snort and a clap of his hand against his tummy.

“Hey, I feel like all you’ve done is laugh at me tonight!” Harry says indignantly, putting on a petulant little pout as Louis finally stops laughing.

“I feel like all I’ve done is laugh at you!” He says as he calms down, wrapping his fingers tight around Harry’s wrist like a vice. “C’mon, my little goofball, the sofa is calling me name.”

“’m not little,” Harry mutters as he follows Louis through, the other man’s grip on his wrist not lessening until they’re at the sofa. Louis turns mid-step so Harry is leading the way. He releases Harry from his grip and flattens his palms against his tummy, edging him gently backwards until Harry feels the edge of the sofa hit the backs of his legs.

The control that Louis is taking leaves him feeling like he’s made of jelly. He slumps down rather unceremoniously, the muscles in his legs unwilling to cooperate. Louis doesn’t seem to mind though; he sinks down with him, throwing a leg over his lap as he follows him down. With Louis’ knees burrowing into the spaces either side of his thighs, and his hands clutching confidently at his shoulders, their bodies meld together perfectly. The slight pressure of the length of Louis’ forearms pressing down against his chest makes Harry dizzy.

“You look nice tonight, did I tell you that?” Louis asks softly. He still hasn’t kissed him, even though their lips are millimetres apart, and it’s killing Harry. Silently, he shakes his head. “Well you do, look very lovely.”

“Thank you,” Harry manages to get out. Raspily, he manages to add, “So do you.”

Louis laughs softly; it’s more of a puff of air and a smile really. “Flattery,” Louis says, finally pressing one soft, ghostly chaste kiss to his lips, “Will get you,” Another kiss, “Everywhere.”

Giggling against Louis’ lips, Harry welcomes his tongue, parting his lips and working its way into his mouth.

“I really like your [shirt](http://www.riverisland.com/men/shirts/long-sleeve-shirts/burgundy-double-face-shirt-295052),” Louis says; it's obscene how he does it almost without breaking the kiss. “Want it off though.”

Harry utters something that doesn’t make any sense on a throaty out breath as Louis’ fingers work his button down open without Louis even looking.

The air is cool against Harry’s exposed skin until Louis closes the space between them again. It doesn’t seem fair that he is the only one half dressed, though. Thoughtfully, he slips his fingers beneath the hem of Louis’ [jumper](http://www.topman.com/en/tmuk/product/charcoal-weave-textured-crew-neck-jumper-5774715?bi=0&ps=20) and feels the warm skin stretched over Louis’ bones.

Louis sort of shifts in his lap, curving his spine inwards towards Harry and sticking out his bum; Harry takes that as an invitation to rid him of his apparel too.

They separate just long enough to get Louis’ jumper over his head, reconnecting desperately as if they’ve been apart for weeks. Louis’ skin is scalding hot to the touch, and as their chests meet the heat takes Harry's breath away.

"Bedroom?" Louis asks, quick and breathless as he pulls off of Harry's lips. He raises up off his knees and drags Harry up with him.

Louis' bedspread is currently a lime green and yellow check, Harry notes as he is flung down onto it. Stripped of his jeans now too, Louis' hands are deft and move fast; he runs his fingers back and forth through the trim trail of hair between Harry's hips, he runs the flat edge of his hand firmly beneath the jut of his his right hip, and then drags his fingertips up his ribs to his nipples, where he proceeds to tease the nub between his forefinger and middle finger; another thing Harry had no idea he loved.

Louis makes a noise of encouragement as Harry curves his spine off the bed with a guttural moan coming from deep in his throat. Every time Louis moves his hand Harry feels a surge of electricity on his skin like an open flame chasing a zigzag of petrol.

“You're so responsive," Louis remarks as he ducks his head and takes one of Harry's nipples in his mouth. He can't help but become more vocal as Louis flattens his tongue and then sucks the bud and the surrounding skin into his mouth with pulsing little sucks.

He sees (and feels) Louis drag his bottom lip over his nipple as he slides gracefully up his body so they can share another kiss. "Okay, baby?"

Jesus, Harry can only nod. Louis nods and hums in satisfaction and works his way back down his neck and chest with small, delicate little kisses before taking the neglected nipple in his mouth and licking back and forth in rapid succession before giving it a suckle.

"Lou..." Harry utters over and over as he reaches out to grab at the duvet. He manages to get a small handful of material between his fingers, but he can't grasp enough and the material won't give under their weight.

"Like that?" Louis asks, and Harry just makes a noise through his ragged, uneven breaths. "Good."

Harry's not sure what to focus on; he has Louis' mouth suctioned to the juncture of his neck and his chest drawing great big angry red love bites into him as his hand works over his cock between their bodies, drawing him embarrassingly close to the edge after just a few moments.

"Lou, fuck babe, I'm gonna come if you..."

"Come," Louis says simply into his skin, licking a stripe over the last two love bites as if he is trying to join them together. "Come for me, Haz."

It doesn't take much for Harry to be spilling out over Louis' fist, just a few pumps sending him spinning over the edge. He watches Louis through hooded lids as he peels himself off Harry and rocks back on his knees. He grabs his t-shirt and wipes his hand on it, popping his finger into his mouth to lick off a remnant that he (Harry realises purposely) didn't wipe away.

“I wanna suck you off,” Harry says, surprising himself with his brazenness. He doesn't have to ask Louis twice. They switch positions; Louis lowers himself off his knees and lays out his body on the mattress, his legs falling into a natural V shape so Harry can fit between them. Louis’ legs come up around him, blocking him in with his heels digging into the mattress.

Harry hovers over where he can see Louis' cock hard through his boxers. Wordlessly, he nuzzles the thick length through Louis’ boxers, dragging his lips up the outline then brushing it up his cheek and over his cheekbone before tucking both hands under the waistband and coaxing them down, Louis bucking his hips up to assist.

The noise that comes from Louis as he closes his mouth over his cock is other-worldly. Harry doesn't think he's ever been more on edge. He is teetering on the border between terrified and unbelievably turned on, and as he sucks away as much of Louis as he can and Louis' fingers fly into the sex-mussed mess that is his hair, his frustrations come out as a guttural moan that rattles through Louis.

"Fuck babe, so good," Louis says immediately, giving Harry his next wave of encouragement. When he sinks back down again, Louis' cock is slick with the warmth of his mouth and the slip is much easier. The head of Louis' cock uncovers in his mouth as he sinks down and he wraps a hand around the base to keep the skin taut. He sucks Louis down to the rhythm that is playing in his head, and coordinating breathing with sucking is easier than it’s ever been in the past.

His first signal is Louis' hands tightening in his curls. The second is the tensing of Louis' stomach muscles where he pulls himself up. Urgently, he hisses, "I'm gonna come, babe."

Harry's options flash before his eyes, and in a split second he decides that it really is time he got this over and done with. He'd tasted come on Louis' tongue before, he'd experinced the salty tang of precome on his tongue before. He could do this. Without taking his mouth off Louis, he hums around his mouthful and continues to move his head up and down on Louis' thick, hard cock. Louis' noises are insane; they go straight to his own cock that is thickening back up even though he just came not ten minutes before.

Louis' hips inch up off the bed as he tries to control himself, the hisses and groans escaping his lips intensifying until he says again, curtly and urgently, "I'm gonna,"

Harry _knows_ what to do. He closes his eyes, holds his breath and sinks Louis down as far as he can. The literal millisecond between Louis' words and him actually coming feels like a small lifetime to Harry, but then the back of his throat feels warm and he can taste it and his throat swallows reflexively without him even having to think about it. He is just about aware of Louis writhing about beneath him, the sounds he's still making muffled and distant as his internal monologue begins to panic. Does he just pop off the top of should he suck all the way back up to the tip? Has he swallowed it all away or will it all come spilling out once he moves? How much does the average male ejaculate? All these questions and more, the answers to which he can't remember, thrum around his head as he feels Louis' hands on his shoulders, palpating his skin and his fingertips stroking. With his eyes still tightly clamped closed, he cautiously moves up off Louis' cock and swallows thickly as the head falls from his lips and slaps against Louis' belly audibly.

The taste decorates every corner and crevice of his mouth but it's safely down the back of his throat now, to Harry's relief. He self-consciously brings his fingers up to his mouth and touches his swollen lips blindly. "Fuck..." he gasps in disbelief, before swiping across his mouth with the back of his hand.

Louis is still peering up at him, sweat dampening his hairline and darkening the hairs on his chest, the skin underneath rosy pink with exertion. "That was... that was so good, Harry."

He's not sure whether it's appropriate to say thank you, so he keeps quiet. He collapses back down next to Louis, half of his body propped up on half of Louis' body. Louis' cock bounces off his tummy a few times as he comes down from his orgasm, Harry can see it out of the corner of his eye. "Kiss me?" Louis asks, so softly he almost misses it.

That Harry can do.

Obligingly, he lifts his weary head and shifts up the bed to meet Louis' lips. He kisses him slowly and methodically, a kind of intimacy that Harry had never felt before. Louis doesn't falter once as he moves his hands down Harry's body, though Harry's own eyes fly open and he almost has a fit trying to stop himself from reacting.

Louis' hands move slowly as if testing the waters, and Harry's heart immediately picks up pace. “You all right?” Louis asks softly as he stills his hand, his fingertips just about to move down to the swell of Harry’s bum.

Harry swallows thickly and tries a brave nod, though he’s sure if Louis could read his thoughts he’d know he was bluffing.

“Sure?” He asks again, and Harry can only nod still. Tentatively, Louis massages up a handful of skin and spreads his fingertips across the cheek like he’s kneading bread. Harry tells himself to stop thinking of bloody baking at a time like this, and attempts to relax. His elbow is starting to hurt though and his shoulder is trembling.

“Want to lay down?” Louis asks, as if he really could read Harry’s mind. His face must be a picture right now. Thankfully, he nods and lets himself down off his elbow, the comfort of the mattress so so welcome.

They swap positions yet again; Harry sprawled over the mattress while Louis sinks back down on his knees, his legs splayed out to the sides like a W and his cock plump but fading between his legs. Starting at mid-calf, he runs his hands up Harry’s legs as if reminding his body he’s still there. When his hands pass over the nobbles of his knees, he begins to slowly part Harry’s legs. Harry automatically holds his breath as Louis’ palms brush up the inside of his legs, close to his fattening cock. As he goes, he doesn't go for his cock but rather spreads his legs outwards and runs his palms up the insides of his thighs, gently inching them open as wide as they’ll go.

“So beautiful, Haz,” He utters in that broken way of speaking that he has that Harry adores so much. “I want to make you feel good.”

Harry has no answer to that, what the hell is he supposed to say?

“I want to show you everything, give you everything.”

_Oh fuck._

Louis rocks forward on his knees, his body over Harry’s, and he lowers himself down so he is resting his body on one of Harry’s legs. His hand is still between his legs, still not touching his cock but rather stroking  very, very delicately at the skin between his balls and his, well his hole.

Harry feels every muscle in his body tensing up as Louis goes. Almost silently, Louis asks for permission with an earnest look in his eye and a rasped “Please can I?”

Feeling a bit useless just lying there struck dumb and unsure what to do with himself, Harry nods. He doesn't really feel himself nod, but he knows he does it because the next thing that happens is Louis reaching over him to his bedside drawers.

He reaches into the second one down, and Harry wonders what the hell he’s looking for. He’s so unprepared for this.

Louis brings out a small bottle. Harry doesn't see it, but he hears the cap pop open. It takes him a second to realise what it was, and when he does he feels stupid and out of his depth and utterly unable to breathe.

He watches as Louis lets the liquid trickle down his fingers, and the reality of the mechanics of what he’s about to do hits him. “Is that, what’re you… um-”

“It’s lube. Are you okay?”

Harry nods slowly, swallowing the lump in his throat down, though it just bobs straight back up again as he does. “Y-yeah, sorry.”

When Louis’ comes back down and his finger is back at his entrance, his finger is slick and slip-slidey with lube. Harry is amazed at how much he has used, wonders if that is normal or just because he’s a virgin.

“Ready?” Louis asks, and what a stupid question, honestly. Harry will never be ready for this.

“As I’ll ever be,” He answers instead, using the most words consecutively than he has in a while. “Will it… will it hurt?”

“I won’t hurt you, baby.” Louis says, and he slides his finger back and forth over his hole, presumably to spread the lube around. This feels unnatural, the opposite of everything he’d ever known, but at the same time he wants this so much.

He holds his breath and doesn't let go until Louis is at the halfway point. “Breathe babe, it will be more comfortable.”

Harry nods but ignores Louis’ advise, taking a stout little breath and then holding it again. “Harry,” Louis says softly. “Do you want me to stop?”

He debates this for a while but ultimately shakes his head. He’s come this far. So Louis keeps going, slowly and angular. It’s like a burning, all tight and sharp and feels like it shouldn’t fit but somehow it does. He can feel the pad of Louis’ finger pass over his walls as he goes, and doesn't realise until he clocks Louis’ reassuring smile that he had released his held breath.

“How- how many is that?”

“Just one,” Louis says softly.

“Feels like… twenty seven billion!” Harry utters through clenched teeth as Louis smiles sympathetically.

“Do you want me to stop, love?”

Harry shakes his head vehemently. “No, keep- keep going.”

He continues to grit his teeth until he feels the knuckles of Louis’ other fingers press against his screaming hot skin, and he lets his ragged breath go with a start. “Jesus…”

“That’s all the way in now,” Louis informs him, as if Harry had somehow missed that detail. “Still okay?”

“Yeah, just, just gimme… gimme a minute?” Harry says as he involuntarily clenches around the digit. Louis smiles patiently, keeping absolutely still the entire time. Harry focusses on a cobweb dancing around on the light fitting above them as he acclimatises to the intrusion and feels some of the burn start to give way. “Okay.”

It’s on the tip of Harry’s tongue to say no to a second finger, but it's actually nowhere near as bad as he had expected. He definitely wouldn't go as far to say it feels good, but it's not horrendous. At two fingers deep, Louis moves a bit faster. Harry presses his legs further down into the mattress; Louis’ weight slung over the left one helps a lot to keep him open.

He’s just about adjusted to two and the slow drag back and forth of the digits when he feels a couple of pulsating little flickers deep inside of him, the last of which sends a tremor right through him.

“Fuck- what…?” His leg that isn't weighted down with Louis jerks at the sensation.

“Just a little finger wiggle,” Louis explains as Harry’s eyes shoot open. “Alright?”

“Y-yeah, actually… yeah,” Harry huffs out, unprepared for Louis to do it again, so when he does he cries out. “Fuck that's… yeah that's nice.”

“Good,” Louis says, ducking his head down for a kiss. Harry can _just_ about manage to lean up to meet Louis’ lips while his fingers continue to flex inside of him without accidentally biting him or screaming into their kiss.

“How do you… where does...” He tries but his questions go unfinished and unanswered as Louis does yet another new thing that Harry later learns was scissoring. Shockwaves rock through him with that and as he move she feel his cock bob up and down on his tight stomach muscles.

“Can I touch… I need, to come,” He tells Louis, fragmented and breathy but clear enough. Perfectly adequate enunciation really, given the circumstances.

“Let me,” Louis says, almost inaudibly. His fingers are gone in an instant, and Harry shudders as he feels himself trying to squeeze tightly back around nothing. He whimpers, feeling lost, before Louis’ hand wraps around his cock.

It all happens so fast he forgets about Louis. Harry brings his arm up and throws it over his eyes, blocking out all the world around him. He concentrates on the feeling of his heart beating and the sound of the blood soaring around his circuits, a far off sound off tiny, concentrated little whimpers slowly bursting into his consciousness like bubbles.

He peers across the bed at Louis; he’s sunk down on his knees, the fingers of one hand massaging and tugging and squeezing at Harry’s exposed skin, and the other working himself over. His face goes blurry and slack as he comes; slowing his fist down to two or three slow jerks. He angles himself towards his bellybutton and shoots glistening pearl ribbons of come over his stomach, his breaths heavy and relieved.

No one speaks for some time. Harry doesn't move his arm just yet, doesn't feel ready to. He’ll take a few more minutes to himself first, try and evaluate and catalogue everything before revealing himself to reality again.

“Fancy goin’ for a drive? Getting some food?” Louis asks, and that wasn’t what Harry was expecting, though he didn’t really know what he was expecting. He’s lying there; still naked from the waist down, still trying to catch up to himself and process what happened, and Louis is thinking about food!

“Uh, yeah alright,” He agrees, mildly surprised but wholly terrified at the prospect of getting up and having to sit on his bum. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, if anything. What he might feel, what he might not feel.

“Are you alright?” Louis peers down at him with pointed concern as Harry doesn’t move an inch off the bed, only moves a hand over to cover his modesty, even though it’s pointless really. “Love?”

“Y-yeah, sorry, just… yeah I’m fine.” He answers, blushing and wishing furiously for a moment that he could become invisible. He decides not to elaborate on his fears to Louis, though he suspects he gets it. There’s nothing that Louis doesn’t get, it seems. He’s almost entirely flawless, it seems.

Right on cue, Louis turns away, as if hearing Harry’s silent appeal for privacy. “I’m going for a wee and t’wash up, okay?”

Harry nods, watching him as he disappears out of the room. He brings his hands up to his face and hides behind his palms, feeling thoroughly overwhelmed. Come to think of it, he doesn’t remember a time when he didn’t feel just a little bit overcome where Louis was concerned.

Taking a deep breath, he drags his fingers down his face, takes a deep breath and swings his legs over the edge of Louis’ bed. He heaves his body up with his stomach muscles and rocks forward slightly, elbows to knees. It doesn’t feel anywhere near as uncomfortable as he’d thought it would and he mentally reprimands himself for getting himself worked up unnecessarily. Silently he reaches for his boxers that were flung across the room.

By the time Louis comes back into the room, fully dressed himself, Harry is in his boxers and jeans, still perched on the edge of the bed.

“There he is,” Louis says oh-so-softly, wandering over and nudging Harry’s knees apart with his own. He steps into the space and presses himself in close; his chest to Harry’s face. Harry knocks his head back and peers up at him, Louis’ arms around his shoulders. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Harry says back in no more than a whisper. For a moment they just stay, perfectly still like that, until a gurgle deep inside Louis’ tummy breaks the silence and they both burst out laughing.

“I think that’s our cue to get moving!”

 

*

 

McDonald's is nowhere near as quiet as Harry had expected it to be, even at nearing midnight.  A row of cars are parked up at the front, each one louder and shinier and lower than the last. Harry’s sure he sees a few of them turn and stare as Louis pulls into the car park in his gleaming black [Audi](https://www.audi.co.uk/new-cars/a5/all-new-a5-coupe.html). He feels a bit like a lost puppy as he heads weightlessly across the car park behind Louis, watching him central lock the car without even looking.

Harry had aspired to be like these boys so much when he was a pre-teen, thought they were the epitome of cool.

The air conditioning has obviously been throwing out breeze all day because it’s almost uncomfortably chilly inside McDonald's. Louis orders him to sit down while he gets the food, simply ignoring Harry’s attempts to offer to pay.

Harry chooses a booth in the window, looking out over the car park. He watches the cars passing by idly, lazily, as he waits for Louis. There are gaggles of teenagers everywhere, people obviously just off the twilight shift, and just like him and Louis, couples looking doe-eyed over Big Mac's.

His eyes glaze over into a blurry mess as he watches Louis approach, grey joggers obscenely low on his hips. Louis smiles proudly as he plops down the tray and slides into the booth opposite Harry. He gets comfy, resting one foot up on Harry’s side of the bench and shuffling right into the corner so he is spread almost diagonally across.

“Make yourself at home!” Harry remarks as he reaches to take the drinks off the tray; one a Coke and one a vanilla milkshake. He can feel Louis’ eyes on him as he weighs up which one is his. Tentatively, he takes the milkshake and looks up.

“Well done, you guessed right!” Louis tears open his burger, wasting no time. “C’mon, dig in!”

Harry can’t wolf down his food with quite the same enthusiasm as Louis. He picks thoughtfully at his chips, savouring every bite which is unusual in McDonalds. Sure, it’s not quite a romantic candlelit dinner for two with an a la carte menu and fancy tablecloths, but there’s no place Harry would rather be. The bright white light and the smell of the deep fryers burn his senses but it's too good to care.

“I’ve got something I want to show you. Can I?” Louis asks, speaking for the first time in a while. Feeding time always results in silence.

Harry can’t help but laugh. “That sounds like the beginning of a really bad porno.”

Louis blanches and then cackles; a full on, head back and shoulders loose cackle. “No, seriously, it’s this place; nice views, just up on the – well I don’t want to ruin it but I think you’ll like it. Can I take you there?”

“Are you taking me there to murder me?”

“Haz, do I look like a murderer?” Louis asks, clasping his hand to his chest, agape.

“No, ‘spose not.” Harry says with an endeared nod. Louis could propose going to the sewers to wrestle bears naked and Harry would still agree. “Alright, as you sell it so well.”

Louis laughs and shoves a handful of fries into his mouth.

 

*

 

Back in the car, Harry sits a little bit more comfortably, though his belly is now full of junk food and thick vanilla milkshake. Slumped in the seat with his knees tilted towards Louis, he watches as Louis starts the car and pulls deftly out of the car park, accelerating the Audi past the crowd of teenagers with a punchy rev and a low rumble of the engine. Louis laughs as a series of eyes follow them out, dumfounded and in awe.

“You love that, don’t you?” Harry says with a chortle.

“What?” Louis asks with mock innocence. “I’m damn proud of this car; costs me an arm and a leg each month so I’m gonna be proud of it. Poor kids in their Corsa’s and their Saxo’s.”

“I’m sure that was you once.”

“Yeah, you got the Corsa part right,” Louis nods. “I didn’t hang around in McDonald's car park, though.”

 

*

 

Harry’s not sure how long they’ve been driving for; he hasn’t been keeping track of time because he just feels so blissfully happy. He honestly can’t remember ever feeling this happy before in a relationship. Louis continues up the main road. The stretch is deserted; they only pass two other cars coming the other way the entire time. The road begins to pull to a steep incline, and Harry wonders just where they’re going. Plunged into darkness, Harry can see nothing apart from the lines on the road floodlit by the headlights.

“Lou, where _are_ we going?” Harry asks, curiosity mounting as they pass laybys and roadside parking slips.

“Surprise, young Harry.”

Harry rolls his eyes though Louis won’t see it. “Well are we almost there?”

“You sound like a kid,” Louis says, and Harry folds his arms over his chest for effect. “But yes, we are almost there, as it happens. Two minutes.”

Harry sighs and waits to see where they’re going. Louis turns down a narrow, unlit lane that almost looks like a dirt track. The Audi is smooth and controlled as it skims over loose chippings and mud and potholes. Louis drops right down; the speedometer on his dash reads 12mph.

As the car turns, the twinkling scenery of the townscape below them comes into view, and Harry can’t help but smile. Louis carries on going and the space opens up, the crunch and low rustle of gravel underneath the slowly turning tyres. It’s completely deserted, tracks of cars going in and out earlier in the day still evident in the car headlights.

Louis swings the car around wide and reverses in so they’re overlooking the valley and all the lights. The engine cuts and Louis puts the handbrake on. “Here we are.”

“It’s… it’s really beautiful.” Harry murmurs, inching forward in his seat to look over the dash for a clearer view.

“Wanna get out?” Louis asks, clicking his own seatbelt off. “Can see it better from outside.”

Dutifully, Harry follows suit and releases his seatbelt, gets out quickly and walks round the car to Louis side as the doors clunk closed. The moon above reflects off the bonnet of the car, all distorted and magical against the glossy black exterior. He follows Louis to the precipice before the drop begins. It’s mostly grassy with piles of mud and rocks jutting out here and there, the decline is mostly gradual but in some places it looks fierce, but to Harry it feels like standing on the edge of the world.

He feels Louis sway slightly closer to him as they stand, and when he looks at him he’s looking straight ahead. When he follows his gaze, there is a cluster of orange light where the town centre is. They’re too far away to be able to distinguish anything but he knows there are shops and flats and houses and buildings. In between there is less light, just trails of street lights illuminating the winding roads, broken up by little clusters of light indicating small villages. Harry can see the hospital way in the distance all lit up, with the red flash of the helipad constant.

The night is so clear, the sky shines an inky blue with twinkling stars dotted sporadically about. “Nice, huh?”

“Yeah, really… nice.” Harry replies, thinking ‘nice’ doesn’t really cut it. “Bet you bring all the boys here.”

“No, I really don’t.” Louis says quickly, and Harry feels something in his chest tighten. “I’ve never brought anyone here before.”

Harry nods, because he really doesn’t trust his voice. Whether Louis is lying or not (he’s not) he feels overcome. “Thanks.”

Louis turns to him, finally, after what feels like a lifetime without those blue souls on him. “I thought you’d like it. I’m glad you do.”

They end up sitting on the grass; it’s slightly dewy and Harry can feel damp seeping through the seat of his jeans, but does he care? No, he does not.

He doesn’t care, either, when he lies back on the grass and feels his whole body getting wet. Louis tucks in by his side, sprawling one leg over his and resting his head on his chest. If he looks up, he can see an empty sky; if he looks down he can see the top of Louis’ head. Both equally perfect.

“Tell me somethin’ about you I don’t know.” Harry says without looking up, after a moment or two of easy silence. The silence is marred only by the far off rumble of cars on the motorway and the occasional honk of the horn of an impatient driver in town.

“Umm,” He feels the vibrations in his chest of Louis’ ponderous hum. “I’m allergic to some seafood? Not very interesting I know, sorry. Shrimp, lobster, crab… I mean, I’ve never _actually_  tried lobster or shrimp, but I am allergic to it. Apparently.”

“How very shellfish of you!” Harry jokes before he can stop himself.

Louis lifts his head off his chest immediately and the steely daggers he shoots at Harry could be seen from space, despite the absence of light around them. Then, he folds and barks out a throaty laugh of disbelief. “Oh my _God_! Harry that was _such_  a dad joke! Oh love!”

“I’m allowed to make dad jokes, surely?” Harry tries to reason, feeling proud that he made Louis laugh. Louis catches his lips for a quick kiss before they both settle back down.

“I think you’d make crap jokes even if you weren’t a dad,” Louis says, pulling himself up onto his elbows. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Harry asks innocently, and he feels the rise of Louis’ cheeks against his chest bone.

“Tell me something I wouldn’t know.”

“Umm…” He sighs loudly, hearing a slight echo to his voice. “I dunno, I’m very boring.”

“Come on,” Louis says, not believing him for a second. Harry’s life isn’t boring really, but there’s a lot of it Harry doesn’t want Louis to focus on. “Think of something interesting. I’m sure there’s something you can come up with.”

Louis is quiet for a while as Harry thinks. He twists and turns his mouth up in the corners as he contemplates his answer. “Alright, here goes. In school, in year seven I was such a goody two shoes I caught this boy and girl kissing in the toilets and I ran straight to the Headteacher crying to tell on them.”

“Oh my God, you little tattle-tale!”

“I know,” Harry agrees, feeling the shame. “And to think, just six short years later I’d be the one knockin’ up me girlfriend!”

“That is some turn around.”

“Tell me about it!” Harry jokes, though the situation isn’t and wasn’t really funny.

“And what’s the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to you?” Louis asks, not allowing Harry to dwell on things any longer than necessary, for which he was grateful.

“Oh God, once, I was tickling Luna’s neck, she was like… seven months old? And I started kissing her and next thing I knew she’d been sick all over my face. In my hair, down my neck, everywhere.”

“Urgh, that’s not weird, that’s disgusting!” Louis laughs. “I’ve helped raise four kid sisters and I have never had that happen t’me!”

“Well aren’t you the lucky one!” Harry says, rolling his eyes. Now they’ve adjusted to the dim light levels, he’s sure Louis can see him. “What’s the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to you?”

“Nothing, I’m not weird.” Louis lies.

“Oh c’mon, Tomlinson, confess!”

“Okay, well… God I dunno!” He protests, shying his cheek into his shoulder as he thinks. “No no, I’ve thought of something!” Louis’ eyes illuminate with his smile. “Once, an ex of mine slapped me in the face trying to swat away a wasp!”

“Oh my God, how did he manage that?”

“I think it was an accident. Although three weeks later he chucked me so maybe it was really just the beginning of the end!”

They both laugh, falling back into relaxed silence. Harry points out an aeroplane going over up ahead, and Louis makes a plane spotting joke. The rest of the time, they just stay in silence. Harry traces his hand slowly up and down Louis’ arm where it is draped around him tightly. He stares up and behind him to where the aeroplane is just about to disappear out of sight.

“I used to love wondering where the planes were going.” Harry says thoughtfully. “Wished they’d take me away from my house to some fun holiday somewhere with a pool and a kid’s activity club.”

“I did too,” Louis says. “Not the plane watching part, but the wishing I could go somewhere fun and forget.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

A little bit more silence follows, and it feels a bit heavier than it had before. Harry closes his eyes tightly, willing his eyes to stop seeing for just a moment. His heart begins to thud loudly with relief that he’s sure Louis can feel as the silence is broken.

“Do you know what…” Louis says, a serious look on his face that Harry can tell he is battling to keep from turning into a smile. “I’ve thought of something. Something way more interesting than the shellfish thing. Something I never, repeat never, talk about.”

“What?” Harry asks, unsure whether to be serious or light. “What is it?”

“No, I’ll have to show you. Forget about it ‘til we’re home. I’ll show you then. If you’re a good boy.”

Harry laughs and then feels indignant. “Why bring it up if you’re not going to tell me?”

“I told you, it’s something you need to see. A visual.”

“God, I’m intrigued. What could it be?”

“You’ll laugh. You will think I’m a prat.”

“I already do,” Harry says softly, bracing himself for Louis’ sharp jabbing fingers in his side.

“You git,” Louis says as he goes, drowned out by Harry’s shrieks that pierce the silent air around them. Harry pulls Louis off his elbows onto his body, and the younger man scrambles onto him, their bodies sandwiches together. Eventually, Louis silences him by flattening him down in the (slightly damp) grass and sitting atop him, legs either side. “Tell me about being a dad. Please? You make it look so easy.”

Harry’s eyes go wide as he exhales deeply, conveying to Louis that parenting is absolutely not the easy task.

“How hard was it? Being a young dad?”

 

_Eighth September 2011_

_It was Thursday. Harry was on his way to school when he’d received a short, to-the-point text from Claire’s mum saying Claire was in labour. It was too early. It wasn’t time yet. He texted Gemma and his mum and was told to keep calm but how the fuck could he do that?_

_That morning, he missed tutor group entirely, sat in the library through all of the first two periods, and then finally agreed to speak to his form tutor during break time. As soon as he told Miss Wicks, his form tutor, she’d sent him to the year 12 head of year and he’d got permission to go straight home, instructions on when to return unclear. He’d sat on a plastic flip-up chair for two hours in the corridor of the Delivery Suite before a nurse came out and apologetically told him that the mother to be and her parents had asked that he not be allowed in. In tears, after much protesting and more shouting and swearing than he is proud of, his mum had arrived in a flurry to take him home._

_Finally, at half past eleven that night he received a short, emotionless text telling him his daughter had been born at 10:17pm. He didn’t have a name, a weight or even a vague description to tell anyone. He’d sat in his mum's bed with her and Gemma all night until gone five, texting periodically asking for updates but nothing came. It was three more days before Harry met his daughter for the first time._

 

Louis smiles sorrowfully and Harry feels open to explore this further. “She was four days old when I first met her. They let me in for ten minutes. Ten actual minutes. I didn’t get to hold her, I just looked at her. She was so tiny, born two and a half weeks early. Claire, Luna’s mum, told me she was five pounds and eleven ounces. I saw her again on the Friday. She was already over a week old and I’d only seen her for ten minutes. I wanted to be there, I didn’t want to be an absent dad.”

Harry has to pause, inhaling vehemently. He knows he should be holding back; this is heavy, personal stuff, but he just can’t. Louis watches him intently.

“She told me she didn’t want her. Told me they’d have her put up for adoption, she just wanted her normal life back. She told me she didn’t want her while she was still pregnant but I managed to convince her not to… y’know.”

Louis nods sagely.

“Anyway, long story short: she let me take her. The paperwork was insane, but she waived all of her parental rights. Just gave ‘me up, like that.” Harry clicks his fingers to illustrate his point. “Then it was just me and the baby. She didn’t even have a bloody name!”

“You were so brave.” Louis says, and it’s a bold statement. Harry hadn’t felt brave at the time.

“I didn’t know what to do with her. I’d never even held a baby before. Sounds awful but that first night home with her I wanted to change my mind.”

Louis’ eyebrow quirks. “What, like… not take her?”

Harry nods grimly. “I was scared.” He feels his cheeks flush and a wave of sickness passes over him but Louis doesn’t look like he’s judging him at all. “They were in hospital for eleven days then it was time to take her home. Claire was gone. The baby was with a social worker when we got there. I never saw her again. I just sat there with my mum in the empty hospital room with her in her car seat ready and I just cried, so hard. Was sick, literally everywhere. All over the bed, the floor. It was so embarrassing.”

Louis smiles sadly and touches a hand to his arm for reassurance. “I felt like I didn’t want to do it either. Why couldn’t I just go back to my old life like Claire was? Playing footy and chatting up girls, I missed it. Never mind that’s what got me into trouble in the first place. ”

“What happened after?”

“We took her home. My mum carried her to the car and I walked behind. All these people lookin’ at us funny. They probably weren’t, is the thing, but that’s how it felt. We drove home at like, ten miles an hour the whole way. The baby didn’t even wake up the whole time.”

Harry stops to reflect. He feels like he’s just confessed all of his sins. “It all worked out okay in the end though, didn’t it?” Louis says brightly.

Harry nods. He thinks of his little angel now and the babbling, chattering hyperactive little bean that she is. “God, yeah. That first night, I sat down on the floor with my mum and changed my fist nappy. Afterwards I held Luna – not that she was called that at the time – in my lap and she grabbed hold of my finger. So tight, man, it was such a strong hold it made me realise… that was it after that. I knew it’d be fine.”

"How did you pick her name?"

“She was nameless for like, two weeks. ‘Girl of Claire Moore’ on all her tags. That annoyed me. For a day or two I called her Baby Styles, just to like, prove a point y’know? Stupid, I know. But then a name just came to me. Luna Rose-Anne. Thought it was pretty, different, after my mum, like signifying the new baby was a part of my family and my family only. Petty or what?” Harry says with a self-deprecating chuckle.

“Where’s her mum now?”

“Dunno.” Harry admits candidly. “It’s just been me and Luna since that day. The only thing she ever did for Luna was give birth to her.”

Louis’ eyes remain stoic, his face ashen. “She’s missing out. Luna is the most beautiful, polite, charming littlun I’ve ever met. And I know a lot of pre-schoolers!”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you have to,” Harry says with an embarrassed little chuckle.

“I’m not!” Louis says, laughing too. “She’s a delight.”

 

*

 

They move from the damp grass to a large flat surface rock sitting right on the edge of a drop of about three or four feet.

"Is this safe?" Harry asks skeptically as he watches Louis hop up on the rock and shuffle to the edge.

"Of course it’s safe you wimp!" Louis says into the breeze. "C'mon, big baby."

Harry reaches out for Louis' hand and lets himself be pulled up onto the stone, a jagged edge digging into his foot through his ridiculously worn out Converse.

When they're finally situated, with their legs dangling over the edge and knees touching, Louis does something that Harry decides makes him the best human ever.

"Choccy?" He pulls his hand out of his pocket and produces a Cadbury Twirl. With a fantastic glint in his eye, he rips open the top and passes a stick to Harry.

"Best night ever," Harry says through a mouthful, and he's not even joking is the thing.

"You can always rely on Cadbury's to make things better, eh?" Louis says, and Harry just nods.

It’s getting nearer and nearer to 3am but neither of them cares. Louis took his hand and rested his head on his shoulder about five minutes ago, and together they sit watching the twinkling lights and headlights sweeping across the valley.

There is an on/off drizzle of rain in the air that never comes to anything, but Louis produces two baggy hoodies out of the boot of his car anyway. As they curl into the extra layer to keep dry, Harry notices something.

“Hey, that’s mine isn’t it?” He points as Louis pulls a paint splattered Etnies hoodie over his head and looks up, grinning knowingly.

He’s starting to get pins and needles where they have been lying on top of each other for so long, but he doesn't even care. Louis wearing his hoodie is what Harry cares about. Louis peers up at him, offers him a small, genuine smile and hooks his fingers under his chin. “Kiss me.”

Harry does as he is told, no problem.

 

*

 

Mimicking its sudden onset, the rain peters out to nothing in a short while later. From their new, dry vantage point in the car it looks almost beautiful. The dampness of their jeans squeaks against the leather, though, which is far from desirable.

“You tired?” Louis asks, his head tipped back and resting against the headrest of the car. Harry shakes his head. “Good, me neither.”

“It’s so quiet here,” Harry remarks a short time later. “How did you even find it?”

“God, it’s not an interesting story, y’know?” Louis says with a laugh. “Photography project in college, they bought us up here to take pictures of the view.”

“Lucky,”

“You like photography?”

“Well, I like pointing my iPhone camera at things, yeah, if you can call that photography I’m not sure.” Harry says. “I had kind of thought that’s what I’d do at college, but…”

“Other things came up.”

“Yeah,” Harry laughs softly. “Exactly.”

His eyes do feel a bit heavy, he lied. He kind of feels like he wants to recline the seat and pull Louis on top of him and just lie together and sleep for a thousand years. Comfortable, familiar and safe.

The moonlight starts to blend out at about 04:30, and right over in the distance due east the sky very slowly begins to lighten. The sky that was a deep, never-ending indigo is now slowly starting to go more blue. A few stray smudges of cloud are visible as they pass in front of the moon wordlessly.

Louis’ arm is stretched across the space between them, his hand intertwined with Harry’s and he doesn’t move, apart from to occasionally rub the pad of his thumb over Harry’s knuckles. Nothing needs to be said, they just sit in comfortable silence that feels like a million words being exchanged. Harry spends protracted periods of time with his eyes closed, soaking up the atmosphere.

When he opens his eyes from his final period of shut eye, Louis is looking at him. Turned in his seat, body angled towards him, Louis’ rests his head on the seat at his temple and watches Harry closely, eyes a bit glazed over and expression fixed but fuzzy. Louis’ looking at him like he hung the stars.

“The sun is coming up,” He says, softly and hoarsely. “Shall we get out and look?”

Harry nods. His hand feels bereft and cold as Louis lets go, but out of the car and back at the edge of the precipice, Louis takes his hand once again and all is right with the world again. Watching the sunrise reminds him of all the early mornings sat on his bed in his childhood bedroom comforting Luna as she fussed after finishing her milk, unwilling to go back to sleep.

“I miss Lune,” He says, quietly, mostly to himself, but Louis squeezes his hand and suddenly it feels like _their_ issue not _his_. “Sorry,”

“Love, don’t be sorry.” Louis dismisses. “You’ve got nothing to apologise for.”

Harry nods solemnly and looks back out at the horizon. The pinpoint where the sun is just beginning to poke out over the horizon is getting lighter, the sky in the area a soft blue. In ten minutes, the sun has risen some more and the blue of the sky is expanding like a droplet of liquid on a piece of material. In another ten minutes, after they’ve sat back down on a dry patch of rock, the blinding burning ball of light is more than half way up and the clouds glow a golden amber hue against the watery blue sky.

“Nice, in’t it?” Louis says, gazing away from the attraction for a moment to look at Harry. Harry has splodges in front of his eyes as he focusses on Louis.

“Nice?” Harry repeats. “It’s beautiful, Lou. Never seen anythin’ like it.”

Harry feels three little words itching at his throat and he swallows them down, clearing his throat. It’s too early for that, it’s _too_  early.

*

The sun continues its slow climb to its peak, and they both agree that it’s time to go. Before they do though, they share a kiss and Harry begrudgingly poses for a selfie. Louis presses his back to Harry’s front and holds the phone up, Harry breaking into a wide smile as he rests his chin on Louis’ shoulder. Louis examines it and immediately sets it as his phone background. Harry rolls his eyes but kind of wishes he could too.

The drive back the other way into town is downhill and the scenery rushes past the car at lightning speed. Under the canopy of the age old trees that line the road, it’s almost dark again and Louis’ headlights flick on automatically.

“Is there anything this car can’t do by itself?” Harry laughs.

“Yeah, make its payments!” Louis deadpans.

They stop off at Tesco before going back to Louis’ house. The car park is mainly deserted, save for a few cars dotted about the vast space; the only evidence that it ever rained at all is the tight curl to Harry's hair and the darkening of the tarmac underneath their feet.

The artificial light of the store is harsh in comparison to the beautiful natural early morning light outside. Harry’s jeans weren’t really dry, despite Louis’ best efforts with the car’s hot air blower.

Louis stands and waits patiently for him without too much whinging while he runs to the loo; though in his defence it’s been almost six hours since they were in McDonalds and the last time he went.

They trawl the aisles hand in hand, stopping to fill their basket with general crap, Louis’ smile growing bigger and bigger with every piece of chocolate that makes it into the wire contraption. Harry watches at the self-checkout as Louis bags up a share size Dairy Milk, a bag of Milky Bar Buttons, Jelly Tots, a sausage roll, chocolate milk, strawberry milk and a bag of custard filled doughnuts.

“You’re so thin, where the hell do you put all of this?”

“Goes straight to me arse, unfortunately!” Louis says, and jiggles his backside with both hands. “And it’s not all for me, you can have some. Take some for Luna too.”

“I dunno if it will last that long.”

“True!” Louis agrees, and they head off towards the door, dipping into Costa coffee at the last minute because Harry can’t resist.

He is grateful for the warmth of his Costa cup in his hands, and savours every last mouthful of latte that slips down his throat. As beautiful as the sunrise had been up on the ridge, it was cold, and damp jeans and rain soaked hoodies weren’t the way to go. He sits patiently in the car as Louis fills up with petrol, the shopping back between his legs in the footwell and his coffee in his hand. It feels quite domestic. Harry likes it.

The drive back to Louis’ isn’t far from Tesco, and the birds are just beginning to sing as they walk up the front path to the door. His skin is still clammy and cool as he peels off his clothes. Louis puts them straight into the washing machine and together they stand in the middle of Louis’ sun-drenched kitchen in just their respective boxers.

“What a sight we are!” Louis remarks as he steps into Harry’s orbit. Harry encapsulates him in his arms and rises to his tip toes as Louis slumps down, the perfect height for Harry to rest his chin on his head. “Shall we get into bed?”

 

*

 

"I- I haven’t been a virgin since I was fifteen, not used to not knowing what the hell I’m doing." Harry admits, turning his head so Louis can’t get to his lips for a second. “I’m sorry, I am, I just… God, what’s wrong with me?!”

“Love, it’s fine, you’re doing fine. We don’t- we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” Louis backs off a bit, giving Harry the space he needs. Harry feels as terrified as he had all those hours earlier when they were in the same predicament.

“I do, I really do,” Harry is quick to say. “I’m just… bloody hell I’m petrified, Lou!”

“You don’t have to be scared,” Louis soothes, resting on one elbow so he can reach up and tuck a curl around Harry’s ear. “I won’t hurt you.”

“It _is_ gonna hurt though, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah.” Louis says, and even though Harry knew it was coming he wasn’t prepared for it. He wanted sugar-coated lies, even if that meant he’d be horrendously surprised when it came to the actual deed. “But if you relax, it will hurt less. I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

“Okay,” Harry breathes heavily. He’s already had one finger; he knows he can cope with that much. “I’m sorry, carry on.”

“Love,” Louis soothes between kisses on his chest. “We’ll be all right, I’ll take care of you.”

Harry considers this, looks at Louis’ face. He studies every corner, the wriggly lines by his eyes, the green flecks in the deepest depths of his blue eyes and the clusters of freckles on his cheeks. “I know. I know that, I do.”

Louis tries another kiss, which is fine. Harry can cope with that. When his hands begin to slip lower though, and the texture of the lube returns to haunt his senses, Harry tenses up again and ducks away from Louis’ kiss.

“I… I don’t know what I’m doing Lou, I don’t know how to…”

“Shhhh,” Louis soothes, nudging his nose against Harry’s cheek to get his attention back. “Do you still want to do it? Let me make love to you, please?”

God, Harry has never actually heard or used the term ‘make love’ in bed before but right now it’s all he has ever wanted to hear and more. He nods, mouthing the word ‘okay’ over and over.

“Relax, relax as much as you can, okay? It will be fine. I won’t hurt you.”

He nods. Louis sounds so sure, and he does trust him. Louis calms his nerves with a deep, lengthy kiss. His soft, soft lips and the distant taste of chocolate and coffee on his tongue are familiar and make Harry want more.

The second time around with Louis’ fingers isn't anywhere near as bad as Harry thought. By the time Louis had worked back up to two again, he’s actually feeling a little bit relaxed, unbelievably so.

Feeling Louis’ fingers pump in and out of him is giving him little curls of heat in his belly and he can feel his cock rising and falling against his tummy with each involuntary contraction of his lower abdominal muscles.

He’s confused for a moment as a bolt of tingly warmth shoots through him as Louis’ fingers plunge down, and then again a few more swipes later it happens again.

“Holy fuckin’... what was-”

“Prostate,” Louis says briefly. He has his Concentration Face on and his tongue bitten between his teeth sternly. “Feels good, right?”

“Shit… yeah,” Harry jerks about on the bed as Louis then repeatedly gets him every time. He feels like he wants to get a hand on his leaking cock, needs some relief.

Louis stops, then when he goes back down it’s wider and a deeper sting than a moment before.

“That’s three fingers,” Louis tells him, obviously sensing his panic. “All right still?”

The third digit folds into the other two in a sort of triangle and within a few pumps, it’s back to feeling almost acceptable. He nods furiously and yelps as Louis sinks down on his neck and suckles in a few more love bites. Damn this boy and his multi-tasking when Harry is struggling to stay alive while all of this is going on.

“Think you’re ready?” Is the next thing Louis asks, and his breath hitches in his throat. “You’re so fucking tight, babe, but I think you’re there. I know you can do this.”

Harry feels sceptical but there’s no going back now. “You… you’re gonna fuck me?”

Louis must like that because Harry sees the very moment his pupils fill, and he makes a sort of noise in the back of his throat. “Yeah babe. I want to, if you’ll let me?”

Louis doesn't do anything until Harry has nodded, and verbally confirmed twice. He watches Louis wank himself twice or three times then roll a condom onto himself.

God, this is _it._

Louis coaxes his legs back open as wide as they’ll go and shifts his bum down the bed a bit more for him. He slides one finger in (for luck) and tells him to relax.

Harry does his very best to remember that and do as such as Louis lines the head of his cock up with his hole, but it’s hard, and Harry must be feeling it because he can't even appreciate a nice pun.

“Ready?” Louis asks, yet again, as he pushes gently against him but doesn’t enter. Harry tucks his hands under the backs of his knees for comfort, takes a deep breath and does his best to release all of his muscles. He nods.

Louis inches in slowly. If Harry thought three fingers was a push, a cock was a whole other story. He is very much unware and not in control of the sounds he makes as Louis edges inside him slowly. Louis is cooing and soothing him as he goes down but Harry can’t make sense of anything. The only thing he can concentrate on is the feeling in his arse.

“Fuck me,” He keeps repeating, the irony lost on him in the moment. Louis stops and the burn just intensifies; he feels dizzy and lightheaded. Keep going, please!”

Louis resumes, pushing the last half of his cock inside in one go. Harry lets out a noise that is part way between a shriek and a groan as he bottoms out and stills again.

“All the way in now,” Louis clarifies, and Harry nods, eyes pinging closed. “Still okay?”

“Yeah just… shit, just, hang on?” Harry asks, and Louis keeps stationary. With a deep breath and a few moments pause, Harry opens his eyes and finds Louis’ gaze. “Okay.”

It takes about ten or so goes (yes, Harry is counting) before it starts to feel anywhere near comfortable, and that’s still pretty far. Harry examines the darker flush over Louis' cheeks and chest and lets himself believe that somehow, by some minuscule chance, this isn’t _completely_  awful for Louis.

His vision swims as Louis’ pace picks up and out of time, short breaths spill from his lips and his brow furrows with concentration, but their breathing somehow sort of seems to sync up as Harry realises they’re nearing the end.

The final stretch is easier knowing the end is near. His cock, hard and slapping against his tummy is screaming out to be touched but he just doesn't know how to coordinate the two movements.

“Lou...” He utters, with no real intention. “Babe, I, fuck...”

“I’m gonna come, Haz.” Louis says urgently, hitching Harry’s legs up higher and repositioning his grip for the final few thrusts. Harry is still undecided whether he’s glad about that or not.

For someone claiming he was going to come, it seems to take a lot of time for Louis to actually come, but when he finally does Harry can tell by the look on his face. Harry has seen this face before, but not in such circumstances.

Harry catches his breath as Louis drops his forehead to his chest and pants. “Fuck...” Louis utters, still pulsing inside of Harry. His arse and his lower back and his hips scream with discomfort, but Louis’ warm, frankly sweaty body sinks down into his and he doesn't care. He feels Louis’ cock slip out as Louis moves his body, and it's a strange sense of relief mixed with disappointment.

Lying side by side in Louis’ bed, limbs wobbly and head spinning, Harry feels like he could now sleep for a thousand years. He feels like he’d need that long just to get over the intensity of what just happened.

“You okay, love?” Louis asks softly, and God damn Louis for being so perfect. Smiling wistfully, Harry turns to him and nods. Louis smiles too. “You were amazing just then, Haz. Perfect.”

He blushes, rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t…”

“You were,” Louis says confidently. “I mean it. This whole night has been… perfect.”

Harry can’t help it, he can’t. As they lay there together, both sated and trying to catch their breaths, a little tear escapes from his eye and drips sideways down his cheekbone, collecting inside his ear. His throat absolutely aches with the tension of trying to hold back his sob, but Louis’ thumb is on his cheek, brushing away the tear before he can stop it and that makes him feel worse.

“God, I’m sorry!” Harry sniffles loudly, his heart suddenly hammering way too fast in his chest. “Christ, this is pathetic! I’m stupid!”

“Hey hey hey,” Louis whispers. He shifts his hand to wash away the fresh tears with the pad of his index finger. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so… I’m sorry I’m being stupid.”

“You’re not, you’re not,” Louis repeats. Harry doesn’t know why he keeps saying everything twice, but he feels like it’s helping to some degree. “Are you alright? Does it hurt?”

It does hurt, but not so much so that he needs to cry about it, honestly. He nods feebly. “It’s not too bad, I just… God, I dunno, it’s just overwhelming? I didn’t know what to expect so I guess I’m just… overwhelmed? Sorry, I keep using that word.”

“It’s okay,” Louis says with a small, thoughtful smile. “You’ll be okay, I promise. I hope you aren’t put off?”

“No, I’m not,” Harry says, because he really isn’t. He knows it will only get better. And it’s not even really about the physical act being enjoyable; because he’s sure with time it will be if the guys on Pornhub are anything to go by. It wasn’t even the discomfort and the scale of what they’d just done, but being with Louis in that way, so intimate and private, that had taken Harry by surprise. This boy really has blindsided him; he’d come barging into his life without warning, thrown everything into disarray and stolen his heart somewhere along the way.

If Harry was more compos mentis, he might realise that the warm, fuzzy, constructing hold around his heart was starting to feel a lot like love. But he watches Louis anyway, both still and silent for a moment, Louis’ smile beaming warmly out of his eyes. They lay there fonding at each other dopily and Louis’ smile starts to grow. Harry is just about to ask what’s up when Louis speaks.

“Wait there, I’ve got something that will make you feel better.” Louis says, scrambling off the bed with ease, where Harry feels like he is going to explode. “Take your mind off things, at least!”

Harry wonders what the _hell_  Louis is doing. He watches him root around on the floor of his wardrobe, bending over completely naked. “Not that I mind the view, but what are you lookin’ for, Lou?”

Louis doesn’t reply; he just sighs and grunts as he shifts through a mountain of rubbish in the bottom of the wardrobe, until eventually he springs back up with a triumphant little “a-ha!”

Harry is immediately confused. Louis saunters over carrying an A3 sized sheet of some description, spiral bound at the top and held tight to his chest in secrecy. “What’s that?”

“Open it. Flick to May, and to December.” Louis instructs. He hands it over to Harry, face down. He turns it over cautiously. It’s a calendar. On the front of the glossy sheet is ‘Manchester University Class of 2013’. “You asked me what the weirdest thing I’ve ever done is, earlier? This is it. Look, you will laugh.”

Harry opens January to find three lads posing completely nude apart from a strategically placed science laboratory apparatus around each of them. “Oh my God! Are you in this?”

“Yep,” Louis nods with a grimace and emphasis on the ‘p’. “Like I say, turn to May, and then December. Ease yourself in.”

Unquestioningly, Harry leafs through the months to get to May. He’s laughing before he’s even looked properly. For the month of May, Louis and three other guys are standing in a row, side-by-side back to front, hands on hips and cheesy grins turned on to full pelt for the camera, graduation caps over their important bits staying in place without being held.

“Oh fucking hell, Lou!” Harry immediately creases. “Do I wanna know how you’re keeping those mortarboards on?”

“Just use your imagination Harry, and I’m sure you’ll get there!”

“This is gold!” He can’t help but stare. Louis is the smallest out of the four lads on the page, but he looks the best. All four of them are slicked up in some sort of oil or something to make them look shiny and buff, and Louis is tanned and- “Is that fake tan?”

“No!” Louis lies, his poker face failing him. “That bloody stuff stained my bed sheets for days, it was horrible! And it smelled like biscuits! Not in a good way, either!”

Harry nods in agreement. His sister had gone through a tan-tastic phase when they were teenagers. “I’m scared to look at December now!”

Louis doesn’t say anything, just watches with an embarrassed smile as Harry flicks past crunchy amber leaves in September, well placed pumpkins in October, and a group shot backlit by fireworks in November. Harry is sure he hears Louis’ breath hitch as he turns the page for December.

“They let me ‘ave December ‘cause of me birthday.” Louis explains as Harry takes everything in. There in all his glory is Louis, looking cheekily over his shoulder; the only piece of clothing on his body is a Santa hat on his head. He’s holding a piece of mistletoe in one hand and the other is gripping his bum cheek. One bronzed, glowing bum cheek.

Harry snorts. It’s the only reaction he can come up with. “Oh my God!” He repeats. It feels like that’s all he knows how to say. “This is… this is amazing, Lou!”

“It was for a good cause! One of the lads, Sam, his little sister was diagnosed with leukaemia halfway through second year, so we all kind of clubbed together. Us, the Photography students, the Graphic Design students and the Business Studies students all worked together to make it. We sold it on campus and in a few local shops round the area. The money went to the family for their travel costs back and forth to Great Ormond Street in London for treatment.” Louis explains. Harry stills at the thought of something like that, momentarily thinks what he would do if he was in that position. “I was quite proud of it at the time. I keep it well hidden now though.”

“So am I sworn to secrecy?”

“Absolutely.” Louis says firmly, but with a wink. “The first rule of naked calendars is, you don’t talk about naked calendars.”

“For what it’s worth, you look really good in it. Fittest lad in the whole calendar!”

“You’re just saying that,” Louis grumbles as Harry drags him back down to a supine position. It’s gone 7am now, they really should be up and awake, but the mattress is just too comfortable and the warmth of Louis’ body is too much like a drug.

“Lou?” He murmurs. Louis hums softly. “Thank you. For… everything today.”

“Of course,” Louis says softly into his pillow, all sleep-addled and whispery. “Let’s sleep now, babe.”

Harry is already half asleep as he blearily sets the alarm on his phone for 10:30 and lets it drop onto the bedside table with a clatter. He falls asleep plastered around Louis’ back, the very tips of his fingers slipped under the waistband of his shorts and his lips ghosting the warm skin at the very top of his spine.

  
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[Tumblr](http://www.tumblr.com/mummyamy10)

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning for this chapter: panic attack and vague discussions of broken families**

 

Harry is a mess on the morning of September the first. His mum had arrived at 7:30 with a painfully enthusiastic Gemma on the phone wanting to wish Luna luck on her first day of school.

He flies around the flat making sure Luna’s uniform is all present and correct, laid out on the end of the sofa ready, making sure the milk hasn’t gone out of date somehow overnight so Luna can still have cereal, and making sure the washing machine is turned off at the wall so it doesn’t burst into flames while they are on the school run, though the chances of that happening he knows are low.

He hasn’t spoken to Louis yet; they normally wake each other up with good morning texts, but right now it’s the farthest thing from his mind. It’s not until his mum grabs him by both arms and forces him to watch Luna calmly swinging her legs on the edge of her bed, pulling her vest over her head and talking to Gemma on loudspeaker. “She’s fine, sweetheart, and she’s going to be fine. You need to calm down too, love.”

Harry goes to say something but he can’t quite find the words. He feels like he’s going to cry. He listens to the conversation between Luna and Gemma.

“Are you excited for big school today, Luna Flower?” Gemma asks, all tinny and echoic.

“Yeah!” Luna says, nodding and smiling. “I get to be a big girl now, not a baby!”

“That’s right! And are you going to be a nice kind, helpful girlie?”

“Yes!” Luna choruses. “Auntie Gems, do you reckon they’ll give us stickers if we’s good?”

“I’m sure they will, flower. If you are good. You will be won’t you?”

“I sure will!” Luna says with a Disney Channel twang. Harry has to smile; those bloody tears are coming. “I think I have to go and get my brekkie now, Auntie Gems. Nanny and Daddy are watching me!”

They laugh out loud; there are certainly no flies on Luna. Between them, they get her fed, dressed and hair into a plaited ponytail with ten minutes to spare.

“Should we get going now?” Harry frets, eyeing the car out of the window. Luckily the weather hasn’t turned yet so they don’t need to de-ice the windscreen or anything like that.

“It’s probably a bit early yet, love. Just relax a bit.”

“Yeah Daddy, just chill!” Luna says, stomping her foot. Her brand new black patent Mary-Jane’s flash red in the sole as she does, and Harry feels simultaneously amused and heartbroken.

He’s torn as he stands by the front door just waiting to leave. No one else is as stressed as him, especially not Luna, but he just can’t stop it. He’s practically vibrating in his seat as they _finally_ crawl into his mum’s car and get going.

“It’s not even a full day, how am I going to cope when she starts proper, like _proper_? _”_ He keeps asking in one way or another as they make the four minute journey to the school. His mum humours him for the first couple of times but in the end ignores him, which drives him even more crazy.

He’s in even more of a stew as they pull up outside the school and it’s time to get out. Luna has the door open and she’s scrambling onto the path before he’s even got his seatbelt off; this is it. There is no turning back now. His baby is no longer his baby anymore.

“Can I just pause for a minute?” He asks, his throat thick with tears that are threatening. There are crowds of parents and young kids teeming about everywhere but he can’t see them. All he can focus on is the last five years of his life slipping past him, just out of his grasp.

“Are you alright, Daddy?” Luna asks, looking concerned in her round, green eyes. She looks up at him and steps a bit closer. She wraps her arms around his leg and clings to him. “It’s okay, don’t be sad.”

He reaches down and clings to her; it’s awkward and it hurts his back but his heart hurts more, and yes he really is that upset. “I love you babe, okay? I always will, no matter what.”

“I know Daddy,” She says back solidly. “Come on, I don’t wanna be late to my first day of Big school!”

Sniffing hard until his sinuses hurt, he nods his head and powers through his upset. He wipes his eyes and prays they’re not too red as he and his mum follow Luna, who bounds up the pavement ahead of them towards the lollipop lady at the crossing. He calls for her to slow down to no avail, as per usual. They cross the road with the aid of the lollipop lady and Harry’s heart grows heavier with every step but he’s determined not to cry. There’s a torturous amount of time to wait between getting there and Luna’s class actually going in, and Harry doesn’t feel better for that. He was now at the stage where ripping it off quick like a band aid was probably the best approach.

He picks at the skin around his thumb inside his jacket pocket as the class teachers round up all the kids by class and ask them to wave a special goodbye to their ‘adults’. It’s not automatically assumed that these kids have parents, and it crosses Harry’s mind for perhaps the first time then that there are hundreds of children out there that have a missing parent, or no parents, or just grandparents, or indeed two parents of the same gender. He momentarily lets himself imagine what it would be like, maybe this time next year, dropping Luna off with Louis, the three of them could make a happy albeit unconventional little family unit if they wanted to. Then he thinks about what he just thought and imagines Louis running for the hills at such a presumptuous, forward-thinking fantasy.

“Harry?” His mum’s voice comes out of nowhere, shaking him from his inner turmoil and reminding him of his current, real life turmoil. “Harry love, she’s going in.”

He focusses on Luna; he’d been staring at her so hard she’d blurred into nothingness as he’d been fretting over bloody Louis and their hypothetical unconventional family. She’s clutching her book bag and still looking smart in her frilly white ankle socks, grey pinafore dress, white polo shirt and navy school jumper. He gives her a small wave.

She smiles widely, all teeth, and waves back. He taps his heart and mouths ‘I love you’ to her across the playground. It dawns on him that in a matter of months or weeks or maybe even days, she’ll be settled and she won’t be worried to leave him at the gates. His stomach flips as he taps his chest again. Luna rolls her eyes and calls out a farewell to them both.

“Bye-bye sweetheart, have a lovely day!” Anne calls to her as she begins to follow the rest of her class and the teacher inside the building. Harry feels his mum grip his hand but he doesn’t know how to react. They stand there for probably no more than a few minutes but it feels like a lifetime. Harry wonders if he could just stand here all morning until 1pm when it was time to fetch her. “Come on, love. Let’s get going.”

He follows his mum blindly, not looking at any of the other parents. He can hear loud noises and see people bloody _everywhere_ but all he can focus on is the back of his mum’s head, her ponytail swishing as she leads him away from this torture back to the safety of the car. He’s vaguely aware of her looking back to make sure he’s okay, but his throat is much too thick to answer.

Getting back to the car is like an out-of-body experience; he knows he did it but it doesn’t feel real. Sitting in the front seat, the car silent and Luna-less and just wrong, he feels his heart hammering too hard in his chest.

“Harry, are you okay?” His mum sounds far away even though he knows she’s sat in the driver’s seat next to him, he can feel her hands wrapped around his. Pitifully, he shakes his head. “Breathe, sweetheart.”

He can hear her keep telling him to breathe, but it seems impossible. “I can’t!” He rasps over and over again, his chest muscles are tightening and his ribs are being crushed by the pressure.

“Yes you can! Yes you can, love, just breathe!”

Harry gulps in big intakes of air, but it doesn’t feel like it’s helping. His head is spinning and feels full of cotton wool the way everything is muffled and hazy. “It’s just… the last five years I’ve done this all by myself, pretty much, and it’s over now!” He’s wailing, he knows he’s wailing. “It’s all over now and she’s not going to need me soon, once she gets her footing here.”

“Harry baby, she will always need you!” He hears his mum say but he doesn’t believe a word. “You’re her dad, her only parent, she will _always_ need you!”

“What if she thinks I’m abandoning her though, this is all too much!”

“What is love?”

“Everything! I’m losing my daughter but gaining a boyfriend, a bloody _boyfriend_ , this has never happened to me before, it’s changing too much and too fast and I don’t know what to do!”

“Harry calm down, love, you’re going to hurt yourself! Breathe!” Anne holds onto him by his arms, gripping hard so her fingertips press little pale moons into his flesh. “It’s all right, you’re overreacting, okay? There is nothing to be scared about, okay, calm down. Calm down.”

His chest hurts where he’s sure there isn’t enough room for his internal organs anymore. His arms and legs feel lightweight like they’re filled with helium but his chest feels tight and constricted like someone has dropped a tonne of bricks on him. It takes him a few minutes to become rational again. “I’m sorry, I really am! I feel stupid.”

“Love, honestly, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I just need you to be okay, all right? You’re my baby as much as Luna is your baby. I hate seeing you upset, it’s scary.”

“I’m sorry,” He mutters again, helplessly into his chest. He sniffs hard, his nose all wet and nasty. He wipes his eyes with the heel of his palms and looks up, blinking away everything. “God, this isn’t how I thought this would be. I thought I’d be okay. This is pathetic.”

“You _are_ okay. You did it. You took her all the way to the gates, and think about how she was when she went in. Excited, all dressed up in her new uniform and ready to start this next big adventure. She wasn’t worried at all, Harry, and that’s a credit to you. She’s a wonderful little girl and the teachers and the other kids will see that. She’s in capable hands.”

“I know,” He does know. That’s not the issue. “Just wanted her to be my baby for a bit longer.”

“Understandable,” Anne says. “You’re twenty two and I still wish you were my little lad sometimes. I miss those times just me, you and Gems.”

Harry feels worse then. Remembering the times when it would just be the three of them having fun and making memories while dad stayed at home and pottered or was at work or was _anywhere_ else but with them. Harry doesn’t have anything to say to that, he just sits in silence. His mum doesn’t move, just continues to lean across the centre console, holding his hand like the snivelling infant that he is. She lets him sit there until he realises his heart has slowed right down and he can indeed breathe again.

“Feel better now?” She whispers, breaking what feels like hours of silence. He nods, a small self-deprecating smile tugging on his lips. “Good. C’mon, let’s go and get breakfast. My treat!”

*

It’s quiet in the restaurant at 9am, the only people around are business men in suits on leisurely timetables catching breakfast before a meeting, and young parents with non-school age kids. Lucky bastards.

Their food comes in no time at all, which is either really concerning or really great, and Harry isn’t sure which one it is. His plate of eggs, bacon, sausages, hash browns, beans, mushrooms, fried tomato and toast is set down in front of him with a clunk, and he soon sets about shaking the bottle of Heinz (posh) ketchup onto the plate.

His mum, much more refined with poached eggs on toast, watches him with a smile as he shakes the sauce over the plate, a little globule of ketchup over each breakfast item on his plate, minus the toast of course. He butters that with the little wrapped up knob of butter he’d been provided with, and looks up when he can no longer take the feeling of his mums eyes on him.

“Don’t watch me eat!” He cries, remembering Louis saying the exact same thing to him. “It’s off-putting!”

“Sorry love!” Anne laughs, her fork poised. “Just glad to see you back to happy again.”

“I’m always happy when there’s food involved!”

He’s beginning to feel full by the time he gets to his mushrooms and fried tomato. He’s loading them into a slice of toast with a bit of bean juice and his last sliver of bacon when he phone vibrates and lights up on the table. He stops what he’s doing immediately to look at it.

_’I found one sad, lonely little Rice Krispy in my Coco Pops today xxx’_

Harry snorts at his phone. God, he’s missed his boy and it’s only been a matter of hours since they last spoke. Louis’ got a few more days of his holidays left yet - the nursery don’t go back until Monday the fourth - although Louis had been very insistent on making sure Harry knew there was nothing relaxing about the last week or so of the summer holidays when you’re the teacher. He smiles ridiculously at his phone, forgetting for a moment that he is in company.

_‘Rogue little stowaway, did you eat it? Xxx’_

_’Thought about mounting it on a plaque in me kitchen but in the end I ate it. Was that too harsh? Xxx’_

Harry’s laughing again at his phone, and he catches his mum’s eye as he looks up from the screen. She’s smiling at him, sort of knowingly but also intrigued, and proud but also curious. “Louis?”

Harry nods, feeling himself blush again. “Yeah. Sorry he just…”

“It’s all right,” Anne nods and picks up her coffee. “You really seem to like this boy, Harry.”

“I do,” He replies, nodding and feeling wistful. He’s _not_ going to get emotional again. “He’s really nice.”

“I would love to meet him, you know? When you’re both good and ready. He seems lovely and I just want to…”

“Check him out for yourself?”

“Well, yes!” Anne laughs. “I’m really happy that you’ve found someone after all you’ve been through, Harry.”

“I am too,” Harry says quietly, suddenly feeling all poignant again. “He’s really special to me.”

“I told your Nan,” Anne says, and Harry’s stomach falters. “She uh, she was surprised. Quite all right though I think. Said she was ‘shocked you were one of _those_ ’ which… okay, but she also said if you’re happy then she is happy. We all are. It doesn’t matter a dot to me who you fall in love with so long as they treat you both right.”

Harry laughs; good old Nan and her mildly homophobic, out-dated opinions on things. Still, it could have been worse he supposes. “Once we’re past Luna’s birthday and she is settled maybe Gems could have Lune and you could meet Louis?”

“I’d love that.”

*

Picking Luna up is _a lot_ easier than dropping her off. She’d come bounding out of the classroom covered in ‘well done’ and ‘great job’ stickers and her cardigan was slipping off her shoulder and her plait was all weathered and ropey, but she looked happy and excited and Harry was _so_ glad, it was _such_ a relief.

His mum had ended up staying until gone seven, Gemma joining them after she finished work just before five. Luna had a lot to say but a lot of it was exhilarated chatter, not much substance, but from what Harry could gather they’d done a lot of drawing and playing. She’d been well behaved but couldn’t remember what they’d had for lunch, but she did reassure him that she’d eaten it all up, and pudding too. Of course.

He manages to get her to eat some of her tea before she crashes out on the sofa with her head in Gemma’s lap and her legs across Anne’s. He sits on the sofa, bewildered and shattered himself as his mum lifts Luna into bed for him.

“So, you’ve done it, little bro. First day of big school.”

“Yep!” He confirms with a deep sigh. “Made more of an idiot of myself than I had quite intended, but…”

“You’re completely normal,” Gemma says. “And all I’ve seen on Facebook today is proud parents sending their little baby’s into the big wide world, you’re not alone.”

Harry laughs. He had managed to keep himself from posting any of his photos of Luna, they were for him only. “That’s true.”

“Before you know it she’ll be going off to uni!”

“Urgh, don’t!” Harry grimaces and bats his hand at her. “She’s not going; I won’t let her leave home until she’s forty five, at the earliest.”

Another part of him thinks about how his mum probably hoped and planned for him to attend university and get a degree and a good job with prospects, instead of knocking up a girl at seventeen and becoming a labourer because that’s what his best mate did and there was a vacancy, and then spend five long years getting drunk and shagging about until one day deciding he might like boys too. “D’you think mum’s proud of me?” He asks, his voice tiny and discreet.

Gemma’s features fall and then she frowns at him. “Harry, don’t be stupid mate, of course she is. She’s proud of you in everything you do, I know it. We all are. You’ve done a crackin’ job with Luna.”

Harry looks at Gemma. She’s so sincere. He’s never seen that before. They’ve spent their whole lives together winding each other up and goading each other, there is only a handful of times where they’ve been serious with each other. “You sure?”

“Definitely!” She gets up and plonks herself down on the couch next to him. She wraps her arm around his shoulder and he fits into the crook of her body. “You may be a million inches taller than me and all gangly and long haired – which I love by the way – but you’ll always be my baby brother. Come on, smile Haz. You’ve got so much going right for you at the moment, enjoy it, kiddo.”

Harry feels himself about to cry again. He takes a deep, startling breath in and laughs because that’s all he knows how to do. “Thanks Gem, that means a lot.”

“Anytime, Hazhead.” That bloody old nickname hasn’t seen the light of day for _decades!_ Harry smiles hard. “C’mon, me and mum are gonna get going now.”

He lifts his head off Gemma’s shoulder and sees his mum beaming warmly at them from the door way. “She didn’t wake up. I have tucked her in and given her that stuffed shark she’s so fond of. Think she’ll sleep all night, poor mite is shattered.”

“I know how she feels,” Harry says, holding his hands out for Gemma to pull him up off the sofa. She grunts and heaves unnecessarily as she pulls him up, and he gives her a tight squeezing cuddle, same for his mum. “Thanks for everything today.”

“No problem, sweetheart. You’ve got the weekend to recover now, and you’ll be okay next week won’t you?”

Harry had forgotten he has to do this all over again next week. He could just about cope with one day. “Yeah,” he nods morosely. “We’ll be fine. I’ll text you.”

“Okay love, bye!”

He waves them off from the balcony, leaving the door on the latch. Afterwards, he wanders back inside and stands in the middle of the front room for a moment, taking it all in. He watches cars passing by on the road below, he looks at the huge tree across the road swaying in the early autumnal breeze of eight pm.

He switches off all the lights, locks the front door and brushes his teeth. He pokes his head around Luna’s door one last time before bed; she’s sleeping soundly, Sammy the shark tucked under her arm and her mouth slightly agape. He can hear her tiny little snores in the silence of the flat.

He climbs into bed in just his boxers, pulling the covers right up around his shoulders. It’s only half nine, it’s a very early night, even for him, but he feels like he needs it. Without really needing to think, he gets his phone out, dials and puts it to his ear.

“Hi love,” Louis answers after about four rings. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry says back softly, not that he thinks Luna would wake even for a tsunami right now. “Just getting into bed. Knackered.”

“How did it go? I was thinkin’ about you both all day.”

“It was fine,” Harry starts. He tells Louis all about it, dropping Luna off and how confident and relaxed she’d seemed, how much of a _tit_ he’d made of himself. He tells Louis about his panic attack in the car and Louis sighs.

“Love, you silly old goat, are you okay now?”

“Yeah, I’m fine now. My mum and Gems were here until an hour ago.”

“That’s good,” Louis says. “I’m glad you weren’t on your own.”

Harry shakes his head, even though Louis can’t see him. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too babe,” Louis says, and it’s like he can hear the smile in his voice. “When can I see you?”

“I dunno,” Harry sighs again. His eyes are feeling heavy and it takes a bit of effort to get what he wants to say out of his brain and onto his tongue. “Maybe the weekend? If you’re not busy.”

“No, not busy at all.” Louis says. “Maybe we could take Luna somewhere? Or… I don’t mind.”

“No, that’d be lovely. I’ll…” He has to pause to yawn. “I’ll see what we could do and let you know, okay?”

“Okay, love.”

“I’m gonna, gonna go to sleep now, all right? I’m tired.”

“Okay love,” Louis says again. Harry loves that. Loves him. “Sleep well, speak to you soon.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, stopping again. “Night Lou.”

“Night, love.”

He ends the call and stares back at the display for a minute. Even on the lowest setting it stings his eyes. He sighs, reaches down for the charger and then he’s asleep within a few minutes.

*

Saturday morning arrives and now Luna has done a morning at school, she thinks she is the biggest, most grown up girl in the entire world. She gets out of her bed and climbs in with Harry, wide awake already. He blearily looks at his phone for the time; it’s almost nine am. Not quite the lie in he would have liked but it’s better than six thirty, so there’s that.

She’s got a bag of Cadbury Animal biscuits in her hand that she thinks she is so smart for sneaking in, but he doesn’t tell her off. Chocolate biscuits for breakfast are okay _sometimes_.

“Morning, babes. Nice sleep?” Luna nods with a bright smile. She’s clutching the bag of Animal biscuits in her hand like he can’t see them. “I can see your biccies, Lune, you don’t need to hide them.”

To her credit, she offers him one. “Do I has to go school today, Daddy?”

“Nope, it’s Saturday. No school on Saturday or Sunday. Back on Monday, for an all-day session, all right?” Luna nods again; Harry’s not sure if she really understands that. “What do you want to do today?”

“Park?” She asks hopefully. Harry rolls his eyes.

“We go to the park a lot, Lune. Can you think of something different?” He says, but Luna doesn’t look too impressed. It’s still very early September and the weather hasn’t changed _quite_ yet but there certainly is a chill in the air that hadn’t been there two or even one week ago. “What about staying in with the blankets and watching a film? Or going to-”

“I know! Uncle James’ farm!” Luna interrupts, her eyes sparkling with delight.

Harry considers this for a moment, but then realises that if he invites Louis along to the farm and James and/or Gemma meets him before his mum, he’d be avulsed from the family. “Um, we could do that next weekend maybe?”

Luna doesn’t protest as much as Harry thought she would, which is good. “Tell you what, while you think about it, can I tell you something? Something quite big and exciting?”

Luna looks at him, puzzled. “Okay…”

"It’s important,”

"Is it _very_ important?" Luna puts an Animal biscuit in her mouth and nods.

"Oh yes, _very_ important." Harry says with put-on seriousness as Luna giggles, inadvertently kicking his shin under the covers. "Ready?"

Luna zip locks her lips and pushes her hair off her face, cupping both ears. "I’m quiet and ready to listen." She says, as if it wasn't clear.

Harry smiles fondly and breathes a bit harder against the flip of his heart. "So, it's quite big news."

"Am I getting a little sister?" Luna asks, her eyes lighting up.

"No!" Harry quickly denies, feeling a mixture of horror and amusement.

"Wait, is it a secret to keep or am I allowed to tell people?"

"Um, well yeah. Nanny and Auntie Gems and Grandma know, so once I’ve told you, everyone that’s important will know."

"Okay..."

"You know how sometimes, once they’re grownups boys and girls fall in love?”

“Like Auntie Gems and Uncle James?" There’s something profoundly uncomfortable that settles in his chest when the first example of two people in love that comes to Luna is her auntie and uncle, not her own parents. He shakes off that thought and nods in perseverance.

"Yeah, just like that.” He says. Here goes nothing. “Well, sometimes two boys _or_ two girls can love each other too."

"What does that mean? Is mummy coming home?" Luna asks, her eyes wary and for a moment Harry's heart breaks for his girl.

"No, darling, not mummy." He says, reaching out to gently shift a curl that is misplaced. "It means that Daddy has found someone who he might well fall in love with very soon and I wanted to tell you to make sure you were okay with that.”

“But you love me!”

“Yes, I do. More than anything. I’ll always love you the mostest.” Harry tells her earnestly, fighting to keep the watery glaze in his eyes from becoming something more. “But I made a new friend a few months ago and that friend is very special to me now.”

“In a love way?” Luna asks, eyes narrow.

“Yes, baby, in a love way. You know my new friend too and I think you like them a lot, and I hope that you don’t mind me loving them?”

“Is it Mikey? You known Mikey since before I was in mummy’s tummy.”

“No, sweetheart, it’s not Mikey.” Harry laughs softly at the idea. “D’you remember from Butterflies, your teacher Louis?”

"Yeah... him’s your best friend, isn’t he?" Luna asks, mixing up her words but Harry lets it slide this time. Her eyes widen. “Did you become loving him? Like a kissy friend?”

"I think so, yes. I like him a lot, like a best friend and then a little bit more too." Harry says slowly, Luna's features twisting contemplatively as she drinks up everything he is saying and tries to make sense of it. "Luna, Louis is Daddy's boyfriend now."

Luna blinks back at him, her wide eyes look blank and he doesn't know how she is going to react. Slowly, she looks at him with her innocent wide eyes. "Does that mean I have two daddies now?"

"No, love, not yet. Louis is still quite... new in our lives. For now he's just Daddy's boyfriend, nothin' more. Is that okay? I want you to tell me if you it makes you upset or confused or sad or anything, okay? You can tell me and I promise to listen."

"Why would it make me sad Daddy? You are very happy for the first time in a long time. You have started to laugh and smile more.”

Harry feels winded but in a really, really good way. All he can do is smile broadly as he takes in Luna's words. "You make me happy too, babe. You're my number one."

"I know, Daddy." Luna jiggles her shoulder and smiles so wide her eyes close and he can see every little bone white tooth in her shiny pink gums.

"Come gimme a cuddle, Sugarplum." Luna wriggles into his space, tucking herself into the line of his body and digging her knees into his groin somewhat uncomfortably. He wraps his arms around her tiny little body.

“Oh _no_ , Daddy I just thought o' something!" Luna says against his chest, slightly muffled.

"What's that babe?" He asks cautiously, smoothing his hand up and down her back rhythmically.

“Does that mean you and Louis..." - Harry's heart is in his mouth wondering what is going to follow this pause, " _Kiss?_ Erghhh, yucky!" She squeals as Harry erupts into relieved laughter.

"Don’t worry, you won't have to see us kiss!"

"Thank _God_ for _that_!" Luna says candidly, and Harry would tell her off for the mild cursing if he wasn't too busy laughing.

*

_‘We’re officially official to my entire fam now. Luna knows and seems happy. So chuffed xxx’_

Harry’s not sure overwhelming Luna with a visit from Louis straight away is a good idea, so they spend Saturday on the sofa watching films and eating frozen pizzas and microwave popcorn. On Sunday he broaches the subject with Luna and to keep the peace he agrees to take her to the park.

“And you’re definitely sure you are okay if Louis comes too?” He asks for what is probably the billionth time as they approach the park. Luna reassures him once again, and Harry suspects the only thing she’s really concerned about is getting enough time on the swings and slide before it starts to get too dark and cold to be out.

Luna is otherwise occupied on the roundabout when Louis arrives, announcing his arrival by text and then by a surprise cuddle from behind a few moments later. They both hesitate for only a second before greeting each other with a kiss.

“Hey, lovely day for it!” Louis enthuses, looking up at the blanket of grey-white cloud above them. “Hope we can get a bit of time before it rains.”

“Hmmm,” Harry agrees, craning his neck and looking up at the clouds too. “Luna’s obsessed with this place. If we had my way we’d be at home.”

Louis asks all about how Harry told Luna and if she was expecting him today. Harry warns that he’s not sure at all how this is going to go down, but as Luna spots the two of them and comes bounding over, she’s got a smile on her face.

“Hi Louis!” She squeals, running at them and jumping into Harry’s lap. She sits facing out and stares contently at Louis.

“Don’t stare, Luna.” Harry warns softly, but Louis is smiling.

“Hi Luna, are you alright sweetheart?”

Luna nods. She looks thoughtful. “Is it true that you’re my Daddy’s boyfriend now?”

Both Harry and Louis laugh. Harry’s sure this would be awkward if Luna wasn’t so damn endearing. She’s got them both wrapped around her little finger, he’s sure. “Well, yes it is true. Does that sound all right to you?”

Luna nods, not even hesitating, and Harry’s stomach flips. “I might get a boyfriend too, now that I’m in big school.”

“No you won’t!” Harry answers immediately, Louis’ face lighting up. “No boyfriends _or_ girlfriends until you’re at least thirty!”

“Daddy, that’s so old!” Luna cries indignantly. “That’s as old as you!”

“Oi, I’m only twenty two, I’ve got a long way to go ‘til thirty!” Harry argues back, even though Luna can’t comprehend numbers in a literal sense. “Louis’ older than me, you’re not calling him an old man.”

“How olds you?” Luna asks, peering at Louis closely.

“Twenty four,” Louis answers. “My birthday is one day before Christmas!”

Luna gasps. “Really? Do you gets lotsa pressies?”

“I do!” Louis answers. “But that means no more pressies all year!”

“Oh no!” Luna says, gasping again and clapping a hand to her mouth as if she’s really concerned. “My birthday is coming up, isn’t it Daddy?”

“Yeah, five more sleeps!” Harry tells her, hooking his chin over her shoulder. “You gonna tell Lou about big school?”

“It’s good,” Luna says simply. Louis manages to coax a bit more information out of her, but nothing that informative. “I miss Butterflies, though.”

“Ah, I bet you do, it is good fun but being in school means you’re growing up and we all have to grow up. You will love school as much as you loved Butterflies, I promise.”

Luna looks at him, all hopeful. “My Nanny picks me up and takes me to hers because Daddy is still at work.”

“That’s nice, I bet it’s fun going to Nanny’s _every_ day!”

Luna nods. “She has ice cream and chocolate bars.”

“Oooh, yummy!” Louis says, and Luna holds her finger up to her lips as if that was supposed to be a secret. “Don’t let Daddy hear that again or I bet he’ll want some too and there won’t be enough left for Luna!”

Luna wriggles in his lap and hides her face, giggling profusely behind her hands. They end up wandering over to the park with her; Louis stands with one leg on the roundabout and spins himself around as Harry pushes Luna on the swing. She insisted on going on the proper swing not the children’s one, and Harry’s heart is in his mouth the entire time. One morning at school and she thinks she’s bloody James Bond’s stunt double, honestly.

Luna asks Louis if he will go down the slide with her, and Harry feels himself almost black out as he watches Louis on the slide with Luna nestled in his lap, his arms around her and both their mouths wide as they slide down the shiny metal slide. He videos the second and third time down, and the fourth, fifth and sixth too.

Louis puts him and Luna on the roundabout and insists he spin them round. Luna shrieks and her curls unravel and fly loose in the wind as they go around. They’re moving a little bit too fast for Harry to be able to focus on Louis, but he’s smiling and Harry feels warm inside despite the breeze and really that’s all he needs to know.

*

They spend the ensuing week texting back and forth and falling asleep on the phone to each other. He gets Luna to school every morning, and with the exception of Monday morning, when he’d had a lump the size of a grapefruit in his throat and all he could do was nod at the class teacher when she’d asked if they’d had a good weekend, he was doing well. She was being picked up by his mum every afternoon, the van dropping him off a two minute stroll across the way from her house in the afternoons.

Now Louis was back at work too he wasn’t around to pick him up, and so the chatter around his mystery potential ‘girlfriend’ had subsided a bit, and Mikey hadn’t pressed him for any information. Harry wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or not, but he was presented with the perfect opportunity to clear the air and get things sorted in his head, so he decided to take it on Wednesday afternoon when everyone else had been some distance away.

Mikey just smiled. He’d looked sort of wistful and also a little bit relieved. He’d said, “I’m made up for you, Haz, I really am. I’m glad you’re happy and I can’t wait to meet him, y’know?” He’d let the wheelbarrow down onto its stand, took the turf roll out of Harry’s arms and thrown a hug around his body.

On Friday the eighth, Luna’s birthday, she’d been awake since 6am opening her presents, beside herself that there were more to come later on. He’d anticipated a struggle getting her to school but she’d gone off through the gates with little fuss. His mum had texted him just after 3pm to say that Luna was absolutely over the moon that her classmates had sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to her and she’d got to hug Billy the Birthday Bear.

Luna is staying at his mum’s tonight and having a little birthday party on Saturday. Once he finishes work himself he heads straight over there, muddy trousers and all, and stays until half seven so he can tuck Luna into bed. Under strict instruction from Louis _not_ to have tea, he sits and stares longingly at the cottage pie plated up that he can’t have.

He meets Louis who is waiting in his car at the end of the street for him.

"All right, love?" Louis asks as he clambers into the car with a harrumph.

"She didn’t want me to go. She wanted to come with us." Harry tells him of Luna, who had kicked her duvet off three times in protest when Harry told her he was going home, and he'd made the mistake of adding in that he was seeing Louis.

"Ah, bless her!" Louis coos with an exaggerated sad look on his face. "She likes me! Next time, eh?"

Harry nods, glad to hear that from Louis. The drive back to Louis' doesn’t seem to take as long as it normally does, and they're soon at Louis' front door. "And you definitely didn’t have tea, did you?" Louis asks again, holding the door closed before letting Harry in.

"No I didn't, I almost starved to death watching mum and Gemma eat cottage pie for their tea, but I didn’t have any."

"Good lad," Louis nods and bounces over the doorstep, holding the door for Harry like a doorman. "You can come in then."

Harry says a thank you under his breath and steps into Louis' house. He can smell cooking immediately.

"Lou, what's..." He follows Louis into the kitchen. He looks sheepish as he turns around.

"It’s nothin' really, just a Jamie Oliver recipe, thought I'd, I'd give it a go, y'know?"

"Lou, it's... I've never had anyone cook for me before," Harry isn’t sure what to say. He’d been fully anticipating this but now it was actually happening he was at a bit of a loss. "Except for me mum of course."

"Well don't thank me too prematurely, you haven't tasted it yet."

"Well if it tastes as good as it smells..."

"It's Southern Italian chicken, or something? Spices, basil, that sorta thing. Jamie Oliver reckons the difficulty rating is 'super easy' but I’ve almost chopped me little finger off and burnt me eyebrows off already, so I think that’s a bit understated," Harry smiles as Louis continues to waffle on, turning the gas back on underneath the pan and chucking a load of wrappers and vegetable peelings in the bin. "I mean, I bought the onion ready chopped ‘cause they just make you cry don't they, I dunno what that's all about but it happens for some reason and it proper stings, dun't it, so I nipped that in the bud. I was thinking you can’t really go wrong with chicken so here’s hoping for the b-"

"Lou, babe?" Harry interrupts. Louis looks up and Harry is across the room before Louis can find anything else to fret about. "Shush love?"

Harry kisses him, pressing their lips together and brushing past them with his tongue, tasting red pepper that Louis had obviously been chewing on at some point during the evening. He tilts Louis' face up with his hands either side of his face, kissing him the best that he can. He pulls away, breathless. "This is perfect. You don't need to worry."

Louis smiles; Harry feels his cheeks move under his fingertips where he is still holding him. "Thanks. I... I hope it is."

"He had a recipe for this chocolate thing with raspberries on top which looked proper nice but there were like, loadsa steps to the recipe, so I just got these instead." Louis explains, waltzing over to the fridge and pulling out little pots of Tesco melt in the middle chocolate pudding. "If I don’t kill us with the main course first."

"Lou, stop it I'm warning you!"

"Oh, you're warning me, are you?" Louis laughs with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

"Shut up, you know what I mean."

"Yeah I do, sorry." Louis smiles. "Beer?"

Harry nods, watching Louis closely as he gets them two bottles from the fridge door, spends a minute rooting around the cutlery drawer for a Simpsons 'Duff beer' bottle opener and then passes one to Harry. He watches Louis take a cursory sip and then turn back to his chicken in sauce bubbling away on the heat.

Louis banishes Harry to the dinner table while he is serving. "Oh shit, you do like couscous don’t you?” He calls across the room. “It’s just plain, I mean it tastes like dust and air really so what's not to like?"

"Yes Lou, I can cope with couscous,"

"Good," He can hear Louis repeating to himself, talking himself through plating up the two dinners and getting them to the table without something exploding or falling to the floor.

"Well then!" Louis collapses into his seat with a hearty sigh and an audible 'woooh'. "It almost killed me, but dinner is served. Only...” He looks up at the wall clock, “Twenty minutes behind schedule."

The chicken is good, definitely worth waiting for. Harry’s not sure whether Louis just got really lucky with following the recipe or whether he's been holding out on just how good he is at cooking, but the chicken is tender and falls apart under his fork, and the slightly-sweet-slightly-hot sauce is balanced out perfectly by the plain, fluffy couscous.

"Is it all right?" Louis asks at half way through and just as Harry is putting his cutlery down across his empty plate.

"Lou, I finished it. Doesn’t that tell you that yes, indeed it was all right? More than all right? Very nice, actually."

Louis smiles. He hadn’t quite cleared his plate. Harry assumes it must be the stress of being the chef. He’d often heard his mum say that after spending all day cooking a roast for the whole family she just doesn’t feel like eating it herself.

They get to the actual desert after a desert of sorts on the sofa; slow moving, languid mutual hand jobs that end with Harry having a bit of a stitch in his side, though he doesn’t say anything to Louis.

Louis throws a tea towel at the mess in the kitchen and chucks two melty puddings into the microwave for them. They eat them right out of the pots and Louis puts on Match of the Day.

"You don’t mind do you?" He asks, eyeing Harry as Gary Lineker begins his introductions to Jermaine Jenas and Danny Murphy. "It’s only on for an hour."

"Course not," Harry says, sinking down the sofa bit and resting his hand on his full up tummy. Curled up on the sofa under blankets on a Saturday night with his boyfriend is what he'd been craving for some time now.

*

Harry hadn’t been expecting the second time to be worse than the first. Well, worse isn’t the right word, but _different_ is. It had been perfectly acceptable and Louis had been so gentle with him it was like sleeping with an angel made out of rainbows and clouds, but the feeling was something incomparable to anything he had been expecting, and they'd both ended up finishing into each other's hands.

He lay awake tucked under Louis' chin breathing against his chest for what felt like hours afterwards, going over every detail in his mind and apologising every few minutes or so.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t… y’know?”

“Haz, please, don’t even go there. It’s fine love.” Louis had wrapped his arms around his shoulders and encased him in closely, smoothing down his hair and repeatedly soothing him. Harry falls asleep listening to Louis' heartbeat and feeling his hands running raggedly through his hair.

*

"I wish you were coming with," Harry says. Louis has driven him back home so he can get ready for Luna’s party. It’s eleven now and he has to be back at his mum's for one. "I know it's not fair of me to wanna throw you in at the deep end with my whole family in one go."

"I'll start with your mum, next time, and then we'll go from there, okay?"

"Yeah all right love. Sounds good." Harry doesn’t go to move, though his hand is on the door handle.

"Can I just stay? Drive you over there later? I don't mind."

"No love, I can't ask you to do that. Plus I’ve gotta tidy up, and shower an' all that."

Louis looks reluctant but he agrees with a little sigh. "Okay. Kiss me."

*

Harry arrives actually five minutes ahead of schedule in a white round neck tee, polka dot shirt over the top and skinny jeans. He can hear Luna parading around in the kitchen shouting "it's my birthday day two!"

"She’s been at that _all_ morning!" Gemma informs him from where she's sat on the arm of the sofa, propped up against James. Harry makes the rounds, greeting everyone, bar Luna who is less than bothered about coming over to say hello.

"She’s having a whale of a time showing off!" His mum explains, giving him a kiss hello on his cheek. "How was your evening? Did he cook?"

"Yes, Italian chicken, thank you very much."

"Ah Harry love, he's a keeper!" His mum coos, attracting some attention. He hadn't expected to make it through this day unscathed with regards to millions of interested questions from his family, and as such he spends most of the first hour reminding people of Louis' name and telling them what he's like and showing them pictures of him so they can 'put a name to a face'.

The buffet his mum and Auntie Carole have put together is nice and he gorges on sausage rolls and carrot and pepper sticks, reminding himself of Louis last night.

It’s about four pm when Louis texts him. Auntie Carole and his cousins, Gemma and James, his mum and Tina, Dean and their two kids from next door are the only ones left, his Nan and his mum's friend Jayne having gone home already.

_‘Hi babe, hope Luna had a lovely party. I’ve got a card for her, meet me outside? Im in the car xxx’_

Harry slips out of the front door, shutting it soundly behind him so it doesn’t slam. He heads down the garden path, out of the gate and right. There’s Louis' car at the end of the road. Harry approaches, unable to stop his stupid grin. He crouches down at the driver’s side window and smiles. "Hi love."

"Hiya, how’s it going?"

"Really good. She’s so full of herself, ‘birthday weekend’ she's calling it. She expects this tomorrow, too."

Louis laughs, all wide mouthed and throaty. "Love her. She will get a shock, eh?"

"Tell me about it," Harry says. "I miss you in there. I’m sorry it's... well it is what it is."

"Love, there's no need to worry. Like I said, I’ll meet your mum very soon and then your sister and we’ll be all set."

"I know," Harry agrees sadly. He holds onto the open car window, his legs starting to ache from being crouched down.

"Well here's Luna’s card. Make sure she gets it, please?" Louis reaches out for a lilac envelope on the passenger seat and passes it to Harry. "And save me some birthday cake!"

Harry smiles. "I will." He pushes himself back up to his full height, hands on the edge of the open window. He bends over to peer back in the window. “Lou?” He asks quietly.

“Hmmm?” Louis leans slightly over in his seat to look at him.

 _I love you_ , Harry thinks. _One-two-three-four-five-six…_ “Thanks again.”

“That’s alright, love. See you soon?”

Harry nods and holds his hand out to Louis, who takes hold of his two fingers and squeezes them tightly in his own. “Bye, love.”

Harry straightens up and steps away from the kerb, watching as Louis pulls away. He watches until the car is gone. Coughing and holding the card behind his back, he walks absently up the path and back inside.

His mum, Gemma and Luna are scrambling away from the window as he gets in. "Oi!" he cries, unable to not laugh. "What are you busy bodies doing?"

“We was watching you and Lou from the window!” Luna pipes up, completely unfiltered.

“Hey!” Harry whines. “Oh my God, that's so embarrassing, God!”

“Why didn’t you invite him in, I’d love to have _finally_ met him!” His mum says with a laugh.

“Mum, the whole family is here. Like, the _whole_ family!” Harry states like his mum is crazy. “I don’t think that’s appropriate for your first meeting, do you?”

“We’re a nice bunch, he’d be okay!”

“Well, regardless, he’s gone now.” Harry says, and he beckons Luna back over. “This is for you, lovey, from Louis.”

There is a chorus of ahhh's around the room as Luna rips open her birthday card, a colourful cartoon owl holding a '5' balloon on the front. "Look Daddy!" He hears his name, and looks up to see Luna brandishing a thirty pound Toys R Us gift card.

Harry’s stomach just about falls out of his arse as he sees it. "Lune, was that in the card from Louis?"

"Yeah, what is it? That one means Toys R Us doesn’t it, Daddy?" She asks, but really she's telling, pointing at the logo on the plastic card. Harry nods blindly, completely taken aback.

"Bloody hell, Harry, that's so generous!" He can hear his mum murmuring behind him.

"Flippin' 'eck, what a sweet lad!" Gemma offers, a lot less succinctly than their mother. "Thirty quid, Lune, think of what you could buy with that!"

"Will you take me to Toys R Us now, Auntie Gem?"

"Not right now love, you're in the middle of your birthday party. And we haven’t even done the cake!"

"Oh!" Luna stamps her foot. "We can do cake now and then go?"

"How about tomorrow? I bet Uncle James will take us in his big truck." Luna’s eyes light up at that and James smiles. Good old James.

They don’t wait long to do the birthday cake, now Luna has heard about it it's all she can go on about. Harry keeps the birthday card and gift card safe to take home, still shell-shocked at what Louis had done. He steals the opportunity to read the card.

_'To Luna,_

_Have a fantastic fifth birthday full of adventure and surprises and happiness._

_Love, Louis x'_

"Come on, Harry love, birthday cake!" His Nan ushers him into the kitchen to lead the procession of the Happy Birthday song. The cake is a chocolate extravaganza, that’s the actual name on the box. It’s got shavings of white and milk chocolate, Malteasers, pink, purple, yellow and blue Smarties (whoever picked those out deserves a Sainthood) and Magic Stars.

"Wow, so much chocolate!" Luna coos as she sees the cake, her voice shrill and able to be picked out even over the chorus.

Harry feels all chocolate-d out by the time he finishes his second piece of cake, but he'd needed it to get through a rather interesting, highly offensive, but definitely not intentionally so, conversation with his Nan about Louis. She keeps referring to him as 'that boy' even though she knows his name, but she doesn’t say anything too horrendous so Harry just grits his teeth and nods along at all the right times, trying to convince her that Louis is a good person and he is in good hands and it doesn’t matter who you love. The last bit might go over her head a bit.

*

Gemma and James drop them off at home later on; Luna is asleep almost before her head hits her pillow.

_'Mum wants to meet you next Sat eve. Gems will have Luna. You up for it? xx'_

Harry waits with baited breath and he feels like he waits a lifetime for Louis to reply.

_‘You’re on xxx'_

 

* * *

[Tumblr](http://www.mummyamy10.tumblr.com)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: when I was typing the word ‘turf’ during Harry’s coming out scene, it kept coming out as ‘turd’. There you go.
> 
> One more chapter to go! Hope this wasn’t too rushed! It didn’t take long to write after MUCH procrastination! This was mainly fluff, moved the story on a fair bit and was quite cute I think. Hope you enjoyed!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bitch to format so I hope its not too ugly! Been checked over twice by me so any mistakes left I'm sorry for, and I hope any inaccuracies aren't too glaringly obvious! Thank you for reading!

Harry is ready to carve himself a new body to live in by the time his mum arrives because he’s so nervous he’s vibrated right out of his old one and he’s just a pile of bones. The buzz of the intercom pierces through his ears and his heart rate picks up.

Blindly, he staggers to the door and lets his mum up.

“Harry love, you’re awfully pale!” She greets him with as he holds the door open for her. “What’s happened, seen a ghost?”

She’s dressed in a lovely black wrap around dress with her hair down; her perfume and berry red lipstick a familiar comfort. She gets all incredulous when he tells her he’s nervous. “Nonsense, Harry! If he’s as nice as you say he is then you’ve got nothing to worry about!”

Harry nods. He knows this and he’s heard it and thought it a million times himself. He tries to focus his attention on something else, so he goes back into the kitchen to prod at the potatoes swimming about in bubbling salted water. It’s a thoroughly unnecessary and mostly just busywork.

His mum stays in the front room calling out ‘here he is!’ and ‘he’s here, Harry!’ and ‘think this is him, Harry!’ every time a car goes past, and he’s just about ready to revoke her invitation to dinner.

“Mum, I swear to God, if you don’t stop…” He leaves his threat unformed. He wanders into the living room, perching nervously on the arm of the sofa.

“Gemma wants all the gossip,” She tells him. “‘Make sure you really suss him out, mum!’ she said to me. She’s beside herself that she hasn’t met him yet.”

"Don't tell her anything, she doesn’t deserve to know!" Anne just rolls her eyes at him. "Stay away from the window; you’re making me even more nervous."

"Does he have far to come, does he drive? He's not coming on the bus is he; we could have picked him up!"

"No mum!" Harry interjects, feeling like an embarrassed teenager. "Yes he's got a car, he's driving."

As if by magic, his phone pings with a text at that moment. His stomach lurches as he picks it up. _‘On my way, ten mins xxx'_

“He’s on his way." Harry says, feeling a whole new wave of nausea wash over him. "Oh shit fuck crap."

"Harry, language dear!" Anne says with little conviction. She's returned to the window despite his order not to.

"Mum, away from the window!" Harry cries, waving his arms wildly. "If he sees you gawking out the window at him like a creeper he's gonna run a mile!"

"He only text you thirteen milliseconds ago, unless he drives a bloody space rocket he's not going to be here yet!"

God, such a mum thing to say. "Ha ha, very funny. Move away, please?"

She smiles at him, it’s a mixture of sympathetic and humoured and irritated. " _Such_ a worrier, honestly."

“If I’m anything it’s your fault, you raised me. I have your genes." Harry says, before quietly adding, "I’m nervous.”

“Harry love, stop it. I don’t want to hear that word again, okay? It’s banned!”

Harry nods. He tries to sit down on the sofa and relax a bit. He isn’t doing well. Just moments later, his mum turns back around. “Does he drive an Audi?”

Harry freezes, unable to get up off the sofa. “Yes, why?”

“An Audi just pulled up,” She says. Harry is at the window like a shot; it’s too early, why is this happening? “Is this him?”

Harry peers out the window, eyeing a small white A1. The colour returns to Harry’s cheeks and his heart begins to beat again. “No, that’s not him.”

“But he does drive an Audi?” Anne asks. Harry nods, chewing his lip. “What a coincidence.”

Harry tries to placate himself with a little pep talk. He’s sure Louis won’t do anything stupid or inappropriate; he can't trust himself as much though. What if Harry himself screws up? Embarrasses himself or them, inadvertently reveals all the sordid details of their sex life to his mum, messes up the dinner? All likely scenarios.

“That's him,” Harry says as he sees headlights outside the window slow down and then go off. His automatic reaction is to smile, and then he realises and blanches. “Shit, there he is!”

“Harry love! Come on, keep calm!” Anne grabs his flailing hands and holds them tight. “Look at me, you’ll be fine, I am not going to make this difficult, neither are you and neither will he. C’mon!”

The door buzzer goes and Harry makes another involuntary squeal. In a daze, he finds himself at the intercom buzzing Louis in. Too quickly, there is a knock from the other side of the door. He stands there for a moment looking at the door as if he's waiting for it to open itself.

“Go _on_ then! Open it!” Anne hisses from where she stands in the middle of the front room.

Taking a deep breath and with a sweaty palm, Harry reaches for the door handle.

Louis looks amazing on the other side. The little bugger has had a haircut and it’s neat and buzzed around his ears, coiled into a quiff on top, and he's wearing black skinnies - as usual - but with a collarless white shirt with a dark navy blazer.

“Hi love,” Louis whispers, releasing a pent-up out breath as Harry steps to the side and let's Louis in. They falter between each other for a moment before mutually deciding that a kiss would probably be inappropriate at this time.

“Hiya,” Harry says softly back, eyeing the carrier bag Louis has in one hand and the upturned bouquet of yellow roses in the other. Damn, this boy means business. “Ready?”

Louis nods, and if he is feeling nervous his face certainly isn’t showing it. Harry goes in first, catching his mum’s anticipative smile as Louis follows behind him.

“Mum, this is Louis, Lou this is my mum, Anne.” Harry says, stepping through the door and taking a wide step to the side as Louis follows him into the room.

“Hi, it's lovely to meet you!” Louis says, voice high but unwavering. He holds his bag up aimlessly and sort of waves the flowers in the air, their scent wafting into Harry’s senses. “I uh, I wasn’t sure what to go for so I just got it all. I got the flowers and the chocolates first, because the choccies were two quid off in Tesco, not that they’re cheap crap- I mean rubbish or anything, don't get me wrong! I thought I better get some flowers too and then I noticed the ‘rose’ theme I had going on and I had to get the rosé wine too, which I know isn’t a hundred percent match but close enough I guess, I hope that’s okay?”

Harry stands in silence as Louis goes on, and on, and on. He knows he needs rescuing but he's not sure how to do it, he feels pretty marooned himself.

“That's so lovely, Louis, thank you love,” Anne jumps in and saves Harry from having to find his voice. She relieves Louis of his baggage and rests the chocolates on the arm of the chair. "Those will do lovely later on at home with a nice cuppa!"

Louis is smiling politely but not talking, obviously shell shocked and not settled into things yet. "Shall we crack open the wine? Let’s sit down; I think Harry’s been tidying in anticipation of this moment all week!"

"Mum!" He hisses, but he's not sure why; it's not Louis doesn’t know what he’s like. He’s bemoaned the monotony of tidying up and keeping the Luna whirlwind damage to a minimum plenty of times before.

"Oh shush!" Anne clucks, passing him the flowers and the bottle. “Be a love and put these in water, and pour three glasses of this. Don't get that the wrong way round!”

Louis laughs at Anne’s joke, and Harry feels betrayed. Her jokes are awful. He tries to catch Louis' eye and glare daggers at him but Louis doesn’t look, so he gives up and dashes into the kitchen with the flowers and wine, breathing intentionally heavily and most likely muttering to himself the entire time. He sticks the flowers in a pint glass full of water (he doesn’t have vases, okay? He doesn’t get flowers, ever) and opens the bottle. Luckily it’s a screw cap so he doesn’t have to go trawling through the drawers for a bottle opener.

He can hear his mum’s voice, too muffled to know exactly what she's said, then Louis' quick reply. He can hear him laugh, not sure what's so funny but he's glad they're getting on. Harry thinks that Louis taking on a partner with daughter and coping incredibly well with being alone in the room with said partner's mother two minutes after meeting her makes Louis pretty fucking amazing.

He’s soon thinking about something else; namely the fact he only has one wine glass. It’s an elaborate number with a sparkly stem and gold around the rim. Feeling like an idiot, he pours a slug of wine into that glass for his mum and pours himself and Louis a measure in half pint pink plastic tumblers.

When he scuttles back into the front room with the three drinks expertly fashioned into a tripod of sorts, his mum is squawking with laughter – it’s a family thing, that crass cackle of a laugh - about something and Louis is just coming down from his own fit of the giggles too.

“Having fun without me?” Harry asks, setting down the drinks down on the coffee table. His mum eyes them sceptically and Louis just grins.

"Nice service, H, did you not trust me with real glass?" Louis asks, bemused as he reaches for a plastic cup and takes a sip, still grinning over the edge of the plastic.

“Be grateful it’s not Frozen or Paw Patrol,” Harry says dryly as his mum takes her glass and holds it up in invitation for them to ‘cheers!’ with her.

Harry can’t sit still; he’s up and down like a yoyo checking the dinner and refilling his mum’s wine glass and rooting around in the back of the fridge for a can of Coke for Louis, who has quickly filled his quota of drinking for driving home later with just one glass of wine.

The conversation seems to be flowing as easily as his mum’s wine too, but he can’t quite relax. His mum asks Louis about his job and how much training he had to do and how he got on at university and whether he liked his job or not. He can tell she is dying to ask about Louis and Luna, but she does well to hold her tongue. It’s Louis that brings it up first, and Harry’s ears prick up from the kitchen where he is very quietly and very carefully mashing potatoes, trying to listen in.

“I love kids, I really do. Obviously. I’ve got four sisters; Lottie was born when I was five and then there’s Fizzy, two years between them, then four years later twin girls came along! They're thirteen now. But I think Luna is a really great kid, I really do.”

“She is. So lovely.”

“Harry’s done really well with her, from what I can tell,” Louis says firmly. Harry can feel himself blushing and his heart hammering, and that feeling feels an awful lot like love. “You must be proud of him.”

“I am,” He hears his mum say, but then they start talking faster and lower and the sound of the oven timer going off distracts him so he can’t hear what else is being said. He takes the pork chops out of the oven, peeling back the foil covering them to be met by a billowing cloud of meat-scented steam.

Feeling like he’s just been in a sauna, he puts the dish down on top of the hob and wipes at his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. He hopes the vegetables are ready, because he knows the finesse of cooking is getting it all ready to come together at the same time, and as the potatoes and the meat is ready, he has two options: if the vegetables aren’t ready he could wait and reheat the rest, or he could serve crunchy vegetables. He’d heard somewhere that they’re better for you like that, anyway.

The kitchen feels like it's shrunk since he began cooking, because with the food wrappers and the dirty pans and dishes, his glass of water and his printed instructions from Google on how to do this, he has little room to actually set out three plates and serve.

“Need any help, love?” A small voice comes from behind him, and he sees his mum leaning against the door frame clutching her glass and smiling softly.

“No, just… just serving up.” Harry replies, before adding in a quieter tone, “Is everything going okay?”

Anne nods, still smiling. In a stage whisper, she says “I love him already, Harry!”

You’re not the only one, Harry thinks. He says, “Good, I’m glad. Now get back in there, I’m doing this!”

Miraculously, he manages to get all three meals to the table, still hot and thoroughly edible. His dinner table is only small, three out of the four chairs are mismatched and it usually serves as a dumping ground for Luna’s rubbish. He’d had to find a temporary place for her drawing books and paints and stacks of magazines, but he’d managed it (dumped on his bed for lack of a better place) and it’s not actually half bad. His mum had brought over a white tablecloth with her to hide the marks and gouges in the wood surface, and with the lamp in the corner filling the room with soft light it’s not actually half bad.

“Like, I hope the foods okay,” Harry says, feeling apprehensive but really there’s nothing he can do about it now.

His offering is met with generally good reviews, to his relief. He clears his own plate and his mum leaves just a globule of the potatoes. Louis’ plate is clear apart from the sauce from the pork chops. Harry notices he has written ‘hi’ in the sauce with one of the prongs of his fork.

“Well done, babe that was dead nice!” Louis says across the table at him, Harry blushing profusely at the word ‘babe’ in front of his mum. “Who knew you had such skills in the kitchen!”

“I certainly didn’t!” Anne pipes up. “You can invite me round for Sunday dinner more often now, H! ‘Stead of the other way round!”

He gives his mum an unconvinced look and stands up to collect the plates, stacking them on top of each other like in a restaurant. He is giving quite a convincing performance of someone who cares about washing up, because if he’s honest he really does not care one dot.

With Louis’ plate the top one on the stack, the collection of dirty cutlery smears the ‘hi’. “Oops,” Harry says with a wicked grin as he dashes past Louis to the kitchen. He hears Louis huff and giggle.

“’Nother drink, Lou?” Harry shouts from the kitchen, expecting Louis to say a Coke or something.

“Oh yeah, glass o’ water, please?” He asks, dropping the ‘T’ in the middle of the word. Water? Bloody hell, he must be trying to impress.

"Water, really?"  
“Don’t sound so surprised, I don’t just survive on fizzy drinks and sweets, y’know?”

Harry shakes his head and smiles to himself as he washes out a pink beaker and fills it with cold water. He brings it back through to the front room with him, hands it to Louis and for a moment he hangs on the line of Louis’ electric blue eyes, caught in his spell and he forgets that it’s not just the two of them in the room.

Louis excuses himself to the loo, and Harry flat out refuses to let his mum have another glass of wine. “I think that’s quite enough,” He says, handing her a cup of tea, hoping to nip any embarrassing faux pas in the bud before they can occur.

“Oh lighten up, sweetheart, I’m not going to embarrass you!” She says softly. “Look, let me say, Louis is so lovely, Harry, I’m so glad you’re so happy with him. I can see in your eyes how fond you are of him.”

Harry feels embarrassed. He wants to huff, but instead he doesn’t. “Really?”

Anne nods, her smile wistful. “Yes. I think the three of you will be so happy together.”

The toilet flushes down the hall and time catches up with Harry again. He snaps out of his glimpse into the future and refocuses. They sit on the sofa, the box of Roses between them. Harry and Louis both reach for an orange crème at the same time. “I didn’t think anyone else actually liked these ones!” Harry says with a laugh as Louis’ fingers recoil and reach for another identically wrapped chocolate.

“I was always gettin' hassled by me sisters for liking them too,” Louis smiles, his eyes all wrinkled and narrow. “Not sure why everyone hates them so much, but all the more for me so I can’t complain.”

“I like the strawberry crèmes,” Anne takes three of the pink-wrapped chocolates and balances them on her knee. “Hands off them, okay?”

“You’re welcome to ‘em!” Harry scoffs, pulling a face. They end up further discussing the pros and cons of each chocolate in the Roses box, moving on to Coronation Street because Louis remembers when the soap was sponsored by Cadbury's, and Harry can’t remember that but Anne says maybe that’s because he’s a little young. Louis teases him for that and then Harry calls Louis an old man, reminding him of their twenty five month age gap.

Louis offers many, many times to give Anne a lift home when it's time for her to leave, but she calls a cab before he can insist upon it. “Well, it was lovely to meet you, Louis, hopefully we’ll be seeing more of you!”

“You too, Anne,” Louis kisses her cheek and stands on his tiptoes to hug her. Harry could just die right here and now, everything is so perfect.

He let his mum hold onto him for a beat longer than usual before she scuttles off to her waiting taxi. Louis signals that he’ll go back inside the flat while Harry slides the bolt across to the balcony door and leans against the railing, waiting for his mum to emerge through the door downstairs. He can hear her shoes clacking on the concrete steps, and the latch on the door go, and then she’s outside, beneath him waving up. “Bye sweetheart!”

“Bye mum,” He calls back softly, waving back to her as she waves to him for the entire journey from the door to the waiting taxi. “Love you.”

“Love you sweetheart.”

Harry watches until she’s out of sight, until the red lights of the car’s rear fade into nothingness. He collects himself for a moment before heaving his elbows up off the railing and back inside. He bolts the door and the clunk echoes around the concrete passageway. Pushing on the door to get back into his flat, his clammy palms leave their impressions behind on the glossy white surface.

Inside, he finds Louis sitting on the end of the sofa, one leg tucked under his bum and the other sprawled across the sofa cushion. He’s kicked off his shoes, his blazer is long gone and the top two buttons of his shirt are undone, the sleeves rolled up.

“Well that went well!” He says, smiling up at Harry. Louis’ eyes follow his every movement as he wanders in and takes a seat next to Louis, draping himself across the sofa, just to side of Louis’ outstretched leg, and rests his head on his propped up knee. “She loved me! Of course!”

“God, I'm exhausted. That was exhausting, wasn’t it?” His nerves and emotions are still jangling about inside him like a big bunch of keys as he comes down from the exhilaration of the evening. He’s sort of maniacally chuckling to himself as the relief washes over him.

He feels a slight tremor in Louis’ chest that was most probably him laughing. At Harry or with Harry, he’s not sure. “It was fine. It was nice. Your mum is nice. I can see so much of you in her, the jokes, the funny scrunchy nose thing, the way you both ha-"

“What scrunchy nose thing?” Harry asks, lifting his head off Louis’ knee and unwittingly displaying said scrunchy nose thing.

"That!" Louis yelps, pointing at him excitedly. "It’s all like, scrunchy, I dunno. Like a little hamster chewing on a peanut."

“What?” Harry squawks, his eyes widening incredulously. "A hamster eating a peanut? Excuse me?"

“You never noticed it before? No one ever pointed it out to you?" Louis asks, and Harry shakes his head. "Shame. I think it’s cute, I love it when you do it."

“I can’t believe you just likened me – and my mother, come to think of it – to a hamster stuffin’ it’s face!” Harry cries, trying to be indignant and feign insult, but he can’t help but dissolve because Louis is smiling back at him with his eyebrows arched and his tongue caught between his teeth. He rolls onto his back and Louis lowers his propped up leg so Harry can lie across him and use his thigh as a pillow. He stares up at the ceiling, Louis in his peripheral vision. “You’re lucky I like you…”

“Yeah I am,” Louis says, candidly and openly. He pauses for a moment, literally at a loss. Damn this boy and his ability to reduce him to a startled mess of emotions in seconds.

“Lou…” He tries to say, though he has absolutely no idea what he is going to follow that start up with. He risks a look at Louis; it’s a risk because he’s not sure he could hold himself together if he got caught in those deep turquoise pools again.

“Hi,” Louis says quietly. Harry thinks he sees him move forward a millimetre or two, but it’s almost undetectable.

“Hi,” He whispers back, holding himself in Louis’ gaze like the older boy had such an unbeatable skill of doing. Harry pushes himself down deeper into the sofa cushion, rubbing his feet back and forth against the arm.

“So beautiful,” He thinks he hears Louis say, but the word cracks in the middle and the end peters away to nothing. A smile plays on the corner of his mouth, it’s a bashful one of embarrassment and endearment and mostly tiredness.

“Telly?” He asks, perhaps not the most adoring thing he could say, but sitting watching a really old 8 Out Of 10 Cats episode while propped up against Louis with one of Louis’ arms around his shoulder and the other resting over his chest, directly over his heart and going up and down as he breathes is a tranquil, perfect experience that Harry didn’t know he wanted or needed until now.

Louis laughs at a Sarah Millican joke and tuts at Jimmy Carr’s annoying laugh; his leg twitches beneath Harry at one point and he pulls Harry back closer to him with a soft ‘no, stay’ when Harry tries to shift himself over a bit to make Louis more comfortable.

After the show, Harry flicks to Channel 4+1 and they watch the ten minutes of the beginning of 8 Out Of 10 Cats that they’d missed. “Stay tonight?” Harry asks, tipping his head back and looking up at Louis. Louis drops his gaze down to him and nods immediately as if there was no question to be asked.

Harry forgets about the mound of Luna’s crap he'd previously dumped on his bed until he’s switched the living room light off and bolted the front door and wandered into his bedroom ahead of Louis. Thankfully, underneath all the crap the sheets are fresh and made neatly.

“Oh, sorry, I forgot about all this,” Harry says sheepishly, stepping into the room and immediately setting about moving the stuff. He’s not sure where to put it so for the time being he dumps it in the gap between his wardrobe and his chest of drawers.

“Moved it from the front room but forgot you’d be seeing my room too. I mean, not that I was assuming you’d, we’d be… well, y’know…”

“Don’t worry Haz, we’re past the point of assuming now, I think.” Louis says, grabbing a stack of rogue colouring books in an effort to be helpful. “Where should I put these?”

Harry looks behind him and sees some space next to his case of DVD’s by the telly. “Over there please?”

Louis dutifully piles them up, arranging them skilfully in a back-to-front fashion to keep them from sliding straight off the unit. “Stay!” He mutters, pointing crossly at the books, and Harry has to smile. Once the bed is free, he sinks down on the end and pulls Louis in by the belt loops on his skinny jeans. Louis stands in the gap between his legs, his hands resting on Harry’s shoulders and the flat of his forearms pressed against his chest. For once in his life, Louis is much taller than Harry, and he’s obviously giddy with it. Harry lets him have his moment, before allowing the pressure of Louis’ weight against him to tip him backwards, the other boy following him down in quick succession, almost as if their shirts had been stitched together.

Louis’ quiff hasn’t even started to wilt, but Harry’s curls feel matted and horrible in the back; he’s glad that it’s not him bearing down on Louis. With Louis hovering about him, their faces mere inches apart, he can really study the boys makeup.

Louis’ eyes are blue at first glance but they’re rimmed a much darker blue, maybe dark grey, and there are flecks of golden brown embers burning around his pupils. Harry notices for the first time little constellations of freckles hidden in the amber scruff that adorns his cheeks and jawline.

Louis smiles self-consciously and speaks before Harry can move onto the next thing that he loves most about Louis’ face. “Stop watching me,” Louis says softly.

“Can’t,” Harry replies. Louis tongue shoots out of his mouth rapidly to wet his lips and Harry reaches up to his neck. He wraps his fingers around the base of Louis’ head, coaxing him down the last remaining inch or so that they’re separated by. Kissing Louis feels like a relief; he’s gone from not knowing it was something he needed, to being terrified by how much he liked it, to being able to do it whenever. Having this temporary roadblock in place this evening has been torture; seeing Louis and his mouth and all the things he does with it while he’s been unable to have it himself has been awful. He’s never been jealous of a fork or a plastic beaker of rosé wine before, but he had been tonight.

Their kiss is well contained and courteous, just a little bit of tongue and a few soft moans into each other’s mouths before Louis pulls away, biting at his lower lip, and Harry wishes he wouldn’t do that because it drives him mad. He also wishes that Louis would never stop doing that.

“Missed you,” Louis says, propping all his weight onto one elbow and extending his other arm to lightly thumb at Harry’s jawline. He runs the bitten down edge of his thumb across the high point of his cheek bone and then flexes his fingers across his cheek.

His hands are cold, like ice, but maybe they just feel that much colder because Harry is a literal ball of fire right now.

“I’ve been right here,” Harry points out, his voice jagged and stilted by a knot of excitement and nerves in his throat.

“I know, but I still feel like I’ve missed you,” Louis says, dropping his shoulders and resting his head on Harry’s chest, his cheek pressed up against the bony plate of his chest. “Tonight was good.”

Harry hums in agreement, arm wrapped loosely around Louis’ body. Louis takes a deep breath in and Harry can feel the indentations of his ribs swelling over his inflating lungs. He longs to remember every ridge and every crevice for as long as time itself.

“Mum liked you. Luna likes you. I like you. Gemma will like you, I’m sure.”

“Three outta four ain’t bad,” Louis murmurs. “I’m quite the catch though, not sure why you were worried.”

“Oh I wasn’t,” Harry replies with a chuckle. “I knew we’d be fine.”

Louis lifts his head up again, craning his neck up at Harry with a dopey smile. “So tired,”

“Me too,” Harry agrees. “This dinner party malarkey is knackering!”

“Is that even a word, knackering?”

“Dunno,” Harry admits. “It is in my head.”

“Fair enough,” Louis smiles, leaning in for another kiss. He rolls off Harry as the kiss deepens, their bodies fitting together in the middle of the bed, their thighs and pelvises and tummies pressed together and their arms intertwined with each other’s, Louis’ leg slotted between two of Harry’s.

Harry's knee burns with the uncomfortable weight but he wouldn’t change it for the world. The sweetness of Louis’ kisses more than makes up for a little bit of discomfort in his bloody knee. Harry surmises then that the best painkiller in the world is his boyfriends’ kisses. “You looked nice tonight,”

“Thanks, so do you,” Louis says. He runs the flat of his palm down the material of Harry’s faded dark grey shirt with tiny little lighter grey stars over it. “My little rock star.”

Harry laughs. He’s never been called that before. “Well, thanks,” He begins to say, but Louis is slowly unbuttoning his shirt now and that’s all he can focus on, whatever he was going to say a distant memory now.

With all the buttons separated, Louis runs his hands up Harry’s bare skin from the curvature of his tummy where he’s lying on his side right up to the jut of his collarbones. “My gorgeous boy,” He thinks he hears Louis say softly as he wiggles down the bed and nudges the pudge of his tummy with the cold tip of his nose.

Goosebumps spring up all over Harry with a tingling shudder as Louis suckles a love bite into his skin. He drops his hands instinctively into Louis’ hair, his fingers breaking through the product easily and his hair becoming pliable and soft once again.

Louis works his way back up, alternating between soft kisses and firm, determined love bites, Harry’s hands slotted into his hair the entire time. Once Louis’ back up at eye level and his kisses are cool on his skin with the air, Harry pulls him back in. They don’t kiss, but their skin connects and it’s like high voltage is linking them.

“I want you to fuck me,” Louis says breathlessly, and Harry’s eyes widen. Louis’ own eyes are closed and his hollowed cheeks are dusky and flushed.

Harry wants to say ‘really?’ or ‘do you really think that’s possible?’ or even better, ‘yeah sure let’s go!’ but he’s been frozen; being this terrified and confused about sex is ridiculous.

“Harry?” Louis asks again, a sinful quality to the wilted huskiness of his voice. “All right, love? I wanna feel you.”

Harry still can’t do anything but make aborted little whimpers and gasps in his throat. He can’t even begin to fathom what fucking Louis would be like, but he’s obviously not completely averse to the idea because his cock twitches in his jeans and presses up against the restrictive material as a reminder.

“Love, you with me?” Louis asks, nudging his chin up to look at him.

“Sorry, yeah, I just… I’m here, yeah.”

“If you don’t want to, we don’t have to,” Louis says again. “It will be easier for you, I think. I think you’ll like it.”

Harry stares back, unable to process what Louis has just said. Louis’ features unfreeze and he smiles with a soft puff of air from his nose. “You okay love? Did you hear what I said?”

“I’m really sorry,” Harry collapses into the mattress, letting the tension spill out of him. The hammering of his heart makes his chest ache. “I kinda… froze up then.”

“It’s all right, babe.” Louis says softly. “I was just saying that I think you might enjoy topping more,”

Harry stares back. It’s not a term he’s familiar with, naturally, but he’s not an idiot, he can draw his own conclusions. “As in… me, do you?” He cringes at how bloody infantile and ridiculous he sounds, and Louis nods with a similar bemused look.

“Yeah, if you wanted to? I think you’ll like it more, it shouldn’t hurt as much and well, I really like bottoming.”

“You li- oh… oh right. Sorry, I didn’t…” Harry has mental images of Louis going home after the previous two times they’ve had sex and yawning into his palm, writing into a leather bound journal marked ‘The Most Boring Sexual Encounters in History: A Memoir by Louis Tomlinson’.

“It’s all right love, we’re still learning each other. I think it’s good to try both, then you know what you like and what you don’t necessarily like so much.”

“Was it awful when I… bottomed?” Harry asks, feeling like such a fake for using these words that he doesn't fully understand or feel he deserves to be using.

“No, not at all,” Louis says quickly. “That’s not what I’m saying. Just some people have a preference and normally, mine is bottoming. I just wanna be with you though; I don’t mind how we do it. I don’t get the impression you were mad keen on it before, so this might be better.”

Harry nods. He doesn’t want Louis to think he didn’t enjoy their first time together. “I didn’t hate it,” He says. “It was just… a lot, y’know, to deal with?”

“Of course,” Louis nods. “I know it’s not easy. I don’t want to force you into anything you don’t wanna do.”

“I do… I do want to try it. Like you say, it might not be so difficult.”

Going into his relationship with Louis, Harry had assumed that given his previous preferences in romantic escapades, he’d just naturally be the one doing the do. He hadn’t considered there would be preferences and aspects of each option that would appeal to people. Basically, Harry doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing or how to do it. Being straight had made him seriously narrow-minded.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about you or what you might like, I’m just used to obviously, y’know, _different_ …sex.” Harry says, feeling like a complete twonk.

“Love, don’t worry, I’m not gonna disintegrate into a pile of ash if you talk about girls or straight sex or 'owt,” Louis says. “Look: boobs, boobs, boobs! I’m not dead!”

Harry rolls his eyes and laughs. “I know that, sorry, it just feels weird. I’m with you now, I don’t wanna be talking about… all that. It’s in the past.”

“I know, babe.” Louis says, reaching up to nip a small kiss on the end of Harry’s nose. He smiles as he recoils. “You’re okay.”

“So… do I… how would I do it?” He asks, hypothetically but really not. “Like… logistically.”

“Logistically?” Louis repeats with a laugh. “Me on my back, I think. So I can see you. I love to be able to see you. It shouldn’t be too different from what you’re used to, aside from the second dick in the middle of it all, obviously!”

Harry laughs weakly, and he can’t help but feel that Louis’ reply didn’t completely answer his question, but at the end of the day he isn’t a child; he doesn’t need step-by-step idiot proof instructions on how to have sex with his boyfriend. Oh God, this is really happening. “Right…”

“Do you want to?” Louis asks, narrowing his eyes. “’Cause if you don’t we won’t. I don’t want to put you off any more.”

“I’m not put off, Lou,” Harry reassures him quickly. “I promise I’m not. I do want to do it.”

*

They end up spending _a lot_ of time kissing. Louis scrambles back onto top of him and spreads him firmly across the mattress, his weight on top of him a constant reassurance. Being sprawled out over the mattress with Louis weighing him down securely makes him feel safe; he really doesn’t know why he was worried. Well, he does, but you know.

Initially, Louis breaks their kisses every few moments to check he’s okay, but that subsides as Harry’s fears slip away a little bit and his confidence builds. He can feel the solid column of Louis against him as he ruts his hips, and Louis can obviously feel him too because the little whimpers and encouraged gasps that spill from his lips give him away.

Harry’s first instinct is to grab; grab whatever he can wherever he can. He lets his fingers dig into Louis’ lower back, toying with the idea of slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers. His fingers brush the material a few times and Louis makes a noise in the back of his throat that sounds like encouragement to Harry.

“H-Harry, wait…” Louis stops him, and for a second he feels like he’s been halted seconds before he’s about to jump out of an aeroplane. He almost feels irritated.

“What? What’s the matter?” He asks, bothered by a loop of curl that has been mussed up into his eyes. A stupid head shake thing does nothing to alleviate it.

Louis reaches out with a sort of relaxed, unbothered smile. He reaches up and moves the curl, tucking it back behind his ear and miraculously it stays in place. Of course it behaves for anyone but him. He lifts his shoulders up off the mattress to press one chaste kiss to his lips, and Louis follows him down, lips still touching.

“I love you,” Louis mutters against his lips, so soft and scratchy and barely audible. He looks up at him, his eyes round and clear like Harry has never seen before. “I love you so much; I just wanted you to know that before we do this.”

Harry has ‘I love you too’ on the tip of his tongue; he has had for about three weeks now, but right now he’s frozen.

“Love?” Louis asks, caution painted on his slightly flushed cheeks and furrowed brow. “Say something?”

“I…” Harry tries. His voice feels all brand new and unused like he just took it out of the box.

“I’m not just saying that to get you to shag me by the way.” Louis says, open and honestly. Harry has to laugh; that thought hadn’t actually crossed his mind, believe it or not.

“I love you too, Lou.”

Louis smiles, he looks like the cat with the cream. “I wanted to tell you for a while, especially since last week, but…”

“I’ve wanted to say it for like three weeks now,” Harry admits before he can decide if it was a good idea or not to be so honest. However, Louis smiles again and it all feels okay. “Sorry if that’s creepy.”

“You’re not creepy. If you’re creepy then I am too.”

Harry doesn’t need to be a genius to work out what Louis is implying. “Are you implying what I think you’re implying, Mr Tomlinson?”

Louis chuckles bashfully and rolls off of him into the space next to him; Harry rolls himself onto his side and smiles back in anticipation as Louis hooks his frankly _freezing_ cold foot around his calf. “If you’re implying that this bloody fluffy haired idiot in front of you fell for you almost as soon as he met you, then yes, I am implying what you think I’m implying. Otherwise… this might be a bit awkward.”

Harry snorts, he can’t help himself, but there’s no time to be embarrassed. “God, sorry!” He says quickly of his snort, bringing his hands up to cover his face instinctively. “I love you. I love Lou. That rhymes.”

“If you only love me because it rhymes then I’m leaving you!” Louis says, pretending to wriggle out from his grasp.

“Don’t leave me,” Harry says, pulling him back in for a kiss. “We’ve got plans for this evening, don’t we?”

“We’ve got plans if you want plans, my love.”

“I do want plans,” Harry confirms. “I think plans sound quite good right now. I think we'll have plans quite often if tonight goes according to plan.”

“And you’re sure you don’t want to reschedule these plans for another time? I don’t mind.”

“No, I’m ready for our plans now,” Harry says, continuing the charade. It feels much less daunting like that, to bring an amusing distraction into the mix. “I’m ready.”

*

Harry hadn’t expected to come just from having two fingers inside Louis. He was too blurry-headed to notice it but it was the combination of the unexplored territory, the warm tightness and the reactions that he was getting from Louis that did it. He comes with a kind of yelp and a breathless sob, stilling his fingers inside Louis and dropping his forehead to Louis’ chest as he comes hot ribbons across Louis’ stomach and into his own hand.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I… I didn’t, I didn’t know that was gonna happen, sorry.”

Louis doesn’t answer immediately. Harry still has his fingers deep inside though he’s no longer moving them. His mind is too muddled to do anything right about now; he can only just coordinate breathing and blinking. Louis drops his legs beneath him, digging his heels into the mattress. Harry feels the contraction of Louis’ muscles around his digits as he moves and that shocks him back into gear again. With his come still drying over his tummy, he carries on working into Louis, ignoring the scorch in his wrist from the persistent angle and the ache of his two fingers. The ache runs up his forearm with the flexing of his fingers, and for a moment he feels dangerously close to losing both his momentum and his coordination.

He decides to focus on the noises that are coming from Louis instead. Louis is quite… loud, is the thing. It certainly spurs Harry on; he only pauses for a few moments to compare this to how he was when he was in this position. Heavy sighs and breathy moans peal from Louis as he bites down on his bottom lip and then drops his mouth open with a rasping little whimper. Harry feels his heart swooping in nervous little flips every couple of beats in his chest.

"Is that... do I stop there or...?"

"More," Louis says breathlessly. "Need one more if you're gonna fuck me,"

Louis doesn’t explicitly say why he would rather three than two, and the reason for Louis’ request doesn’t really register in his mind. He withdraws the digits almost all the way and sinks back down with a third one added in, his fingers folding in on each other into a triangle of sorts against the firm resistance of Louis’ walls.

The extra addition elicits a strident whine from Louis and his upper body vaults up off the bed, one hand shooting out and gripping the bed sheets and the other grabbing Harry around the back of the neck and pulling him into a hasty kiss.

The kiss is clumsy and mostly them just breathing heavily and desperately into each other’s mouths, and it doesn’t last for long. Louis crashes back down onto the pillow and with his hand wrapped languidly around himself, looking up at Harry through hooded, dazed eyes.

“Ready,” He says under a heavy breath. He feels Louis' eyes travel down to his cock, and he's painfully hard again, despite the... _mishap_ a while ago. “You good, yeah?”

Harry nods, a little blindly. He tries not to overthink it. He’s done this, or a variation on this, before and it can’t be that much different or harder can it? When Louis reaches into his bedside table and brings out a condom and more lube, Harry is reminded that yes, this is quite different from anything he’s done before, no matter how much he wants to try and tell himself it won’t be.

He’s not really aware of Louis rolling the condom onto him; propped up on his arms he kind of hangs suspended in air, distantly aware of his boyfriends hands on him. Then, Louis wiggles underneath him, bringing up his legs so his knees box Harry in on both sides. He rolls his hips up and lets his knees fall out beside him.

Harry isn’t quite sure how Louis has folded himself in half quite as spectacularly as he has, and he’s sure he was probably a rigid, uncooperative old sack of spuds in comparison, but no time to dwell. He can feel Louis’ hand reach down and wrap around him, taking control. He gives him a couple of languid strokes, and realises he’s drizzled more lube into his palm and over him. “All right?”

Harry nods, risking a look down between their bodies. He watches, in awe for a moment, as Louis lines the head of his cock up with his hole and then peers up at him. Harry looks up to meet his eye, his breath coming in too quickly and short to form any sentences. He just nods and slowly begins to bring his hips down.

Louis controls the tempo with one hand gripping his bum and the other slid sneakily around his hip, encouraging him with small little slips of ‘yeah, that’s it’ and ‘so good’ etc. Harry’s not really too sure if he’s doing it right or not, but he’s also only just getting started. Louis doesn’t seem to be too concerned over anything so he tries to adopt the same approach.

When he bottoms out he takes a moment to properly focus on the feeling of Louis around him. He feels like he could catch fire. He continues with a bit more confidence than he had done before, thanks in part to Louis’ hands on his lower back, his fingers stretching across the curvature of his bum and digging into the flesh encouragingly.

“That all right?” Louis asks breathlessly. Again, Harry is at a loss for words, so he just nods. “Good. Feels so good. Keep going?”

Harry nods, dragging himself out slightly, because it’s not like he’s completely clueless. Louis reacts well, just like Harry had hoped, just how Harry had hoped he would have reacted when the tables were turned. He feels like he could cry, this makes so much more sense. It has its similarities, in the vaguest possible sense, but it’s certainly very different to anything he’s done before; Louis is tight and warm in a way that Harry has never experienced before, and he might be inclined to say that it’s in fact _better_ than anything he’s done before. It’s nowhere near as difficult to coordinate as he’d been imagining and the look on Louis’ face beneath him spurs him on. Louis’ bottom lip is bitten between his teeth and his eyes are heavy lidded as Harry continues to fuck into him, his breath held with the concentration and momentum that he feels leaving his body and crashing into Louis’.

"Fuck, that's it, so good babe," Louis says under his breath, and the unexpected noise almost causes his momentum to break, almost.

"Is... really?"

Louis smiles, it's sort of tight and disguised around his bitten lip, but he nods too. "Yeah, really."

Harry continues to fuck into Louis, battling with his senses and his emotions to try and remember every single second of this for later, noticing every feeling and every spasm, every clench and every noise that comes from either of them.

"So big," he thinks he hears Louis mutter, though his coital communication is no match for the thrum of _everything_ that is zooming around Harry’s body.

His orgasm creeps up on him fast, almost faster than he can recognise and definitely faster than he would have liked. "Gonna come," he says tersely, screwing his eyes tightly shut and letting his head drop slightly, breath held and the muscles in his arms screaming at him as he comes into the condom. It sort of falters, drags out longer than he's ever felt before, he's sure. His entire body shudders as he comes once and he feels like he's stuck in limbo for an unidentified amount of seconds as the tingling, electricity of his orgasm pauses before he shoots twice more.

He hears similar noises underneath him and he opens his eyes to see Louis' staring back at him, eyes wider and rounder than he's ever seen before, whimpering with his hand wrapped around his own cock, come splattered across his abdomen. Wow, he missed that. He must have blacked out during those lost few seconds between coming.

He’s not quite sure of post-shag etiquette, so he pulls out, catching a cursory glimpse of Louis still all slick and open and fluttery. He takes the condom off, unsure of what to do with it at first, and then drops maybe a bit ungracefully onto his back and sinks into the duvet. He feels like he could die happy now. He doesn’t want to, of course, he wants to stay alive for many more years to do this many more times but the sentiment is the same. He feels so overcome and sated that when he hears Louis' voice again it jerks him back from the very edge of sleep.

"Think someone enjoyed that a bit more?"

He blinks away the threatening sleep, and rolls his head across the pillow to look at Louis. Louis' lying flat on his back too, facing him and smiling blearily like he's been drugged.

"I’m... I’m sorry I came so fast," Harry says, feeling embarrassed but at the same time having the equilibrium to accept that there is nothing he could do now to change it. It’s an interesting, ultimately relieving mix.

"Don’t be," Louis says, lifting one hand an inch or so off his tummy where it had been resting and batting it aimlessly. "It was good. Really good."

"Was... did I do it right?"

Louis laughs again. "Yes," he says, sounding very sure. Well. "Felt so good."

Harry blinks in an automatic reaction to Louis' hand reaching up to his face. Louis smiles softly as he brushes the edge of his thumb, the bitten down nail and the distressed skin, across Harry’s temple and makes one half turn onto his side so they're facing each other. "Still love me? 'Cause I still love you."

Now it's Harry’s turn to laugh softly. He releases all the tension from his neck and shoulders and lets the side of his face sink deep into Louis’ pillows. Closing his eyes and trying to beat down his smile, he says, "Yes, I still love you."

*

And if Harry thought the first time was good, the second time the next morning was even better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be an epilogue! It's written so just needs to be edited!  
> Thank you so much for reading!


	9. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like this! After a little blip in the middle, I've finally finished writing this and I am quite happy with it, and love the ending. I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Say hi on [tumblr](http://yourpricelessadvice.tumblr.com/) if you like!

**Epilogue**

_Louis_

  
  
Standing in the sweets and treats aisle in Tesco is hardly unknown territory. Louis’ been here many a time, but that was when he knew what he wanted and that was to die happy and filled with chocolate and sweets, surrounded by sweet wrappers and puddles of melted chocolate.

Shopping for your boyfriend's daughter’s first ever sleepover at your house is decidedly more tricky than grabbing a quick pick-me-up on the way home from a crap day at work. Add in the fact that it’s the day before Christmas Eve and the sweets and chocolate selection has long since been ransacked by stressed out shoppers, he doesn’t have much choice. He agonises over fizzy or plain strawberry laces before grabbing both anyway. He chucks them in the basket that is digging into the crook of his arm; he should have picked up the milk last, it’s so heavy. Further down the aisle is the ‘share size’ (yeah right) bags of chocolates, and he picks up a bag of Milky Bar Buttons. Every kid loves those. Daisy and Phoebe lived on them when they were toddlers.

Feeling a bit bad for the abundance of crap, he heads towards the crisps aisle and picks up a thing of yoghurt covered raisins and some popcorn. He realises again that he doesn’t know which flavour to get, so he gets sweet, salted and toffee just to be sure.

On his way back down the other end of the shop to get the bread, beans and eggs that he’d forgotten, he sees a rather forlorn looking display of toys with a whole row of bracelet making kits half price, £4.99 instead of £9.99. Without even thinking he shoves one of those in his basket too, and grabs some strawberry Nesquik along with the eggs.

“It’s not all for me,” He says automatically when he sees the nice old lady on the checkout eyeing up his purchases. “They’re for my… uh,” He falters, he can’t get the words ‘my boyfriend’s daughter’ off his tongue when it comes down to it. “For my daughter.”

Fuck… He hadn’t meant to say that. He’d never said that before. The lady just smiles at him. “How lovely, what a lucky girl.” She says, and Louis can only nod. The awkward half-smile on his face probably makes him look constipated, but it’s his sort of default face for the time being. He pays contactless for his shopping, wishes her a Merry Christmas in return for her well wishes and scurries to the car, still grumpy about paying 15p for his three bags over a year after the scheme had first come about.

Harry and Luna are coming to stay this evening for the first time. It’s quarter past three now and he’s picking them up at five. That leaves him with an hour and forty five minutes to panic, go home, put the shopping away, panic, make sure everything is set up right, panic, make sure the kids TV shows he’d recorded are still there, panic some more and then get back in the car to drive over. Whilst panicking.

He is under strict instruction from Harry to just text when he’s outside and they will come down to him. Louis assumes it’s because Harry's flat looks like a bomb has hit it, though he won’t say that to Harry. He will let him continue to think he’s being slick.

He’s heard little from Harry since that morning, and he’d tried to keep himself busy changing the sheets on both the beds, hoovering top to bottom and making sure the meatballs for dinner are out of the freezer and defrosting. He’s got everything he can possibly get ready beforehand done: a dry pan of spaghetti ready to bring to the boil later, the dry ingredients for the tomato sauce out on the side ready and the meatballs defrosting, obviously.

He thinks it might be too early to leave at half past four, no matter how slowly he drives he’ll be waiting around for ages. At twenty five to five, it’s still too early. By twenty to five, he thinks if he _slowly_ walks towards the front door, gets in the car, spends a minute or two choosing something to listen to and then slowly turning the engine on and getting his seatbelt on, he might just get away with it.

*

It takes Harry two journeys up and down from his flat laden with stuff before they’re down at the kerb getting into the car. Louis had jumped out and given Luna a quick one armed hug before dutifully opening the boot for a preoccupied Harry.

Luna watches in awe as the boot opens by itself, Louis grins widely and Harry just rolls his eyes with a smirk. Louis could just wipe that smirk right off his face. He steps back and lets Harry put Luna’s car seat in; four sisters later and he still isn’t interested in having _anything_  to do with putting in car seats.

His eye is rarely off Luna in the rear view mirror as they drive back to his. He can feel Luna gently kick the back of his chair; a habit he presumes is annoying given Harry’s constant flinching and apologetic stares and snapping at Luna. He pokes his tongue out in the mirror at Luna while Harry isn’t looking, and she giggles with her hand in front of her face, green eyes electric with mischief. Sometimes it’s spooky how similar she is to her dad.

When they arrive at Louis’ house, Luna scrambles across the back seat and gets out of the passenger side onto the pavement instead of the road. Bless, Harry has taught her well. She races up to the front door, running her finger around the curves of the brass ‘8’ and ‘6’ on the door while they bring in the stuff from the car. It’s a lot easier being able to leave the car seat in the back of the car, and it makes Louis’ heart swoop a little to see it in the back there as he clunks shut the door and central locks the car.

Harry takes a good half an hour to forty five minutes to properly calm down. Louis makes the tea as soon as they get inside, of course, and Harry sits with his leg tucked under himself clutching his mug. “You tidied up,” Harry remarks.

“Of course. Needed to make a good impression, didn’t I?”

“Think you’ve already done that, love.” Harry points out. His eyes wander over to Luna who is sitting cross legged at Louis’ coffee table walking her plastic horses across the surface and making them chase each other, her plastic tumbler of squash precariously close to the edge. He leans forward and moves it in. “Careful, Luna love.”

She ignores him, continuing to make the horses duel, all elbows and hands.

“Haz,” Louis says softly, reaching over to touch a hand to his knee. He feels him rigid and tense under his touch. “Calm down love, she’s fine.”

“I know but if she spills that drink…”

“If she does, she does. It’s fine. C'mon, you’re giving me a nervous disposition.”

Harry looks like he wants to continue, but he relents and drops the tension from his shoulders. “Sorry, I know. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Louis says. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Luna, what do you reckon about making something with me? D’you reckon that sounds fun?"

Luna looks first at him, fleetingly, then over to Harry for a second then back at him. “Make what, Lou?”

Louis loves when she calls him Lou. “Well, I was in Tesco earlier and I found something that I thought looked really cool so I got it ‘cause I thought you might maybe like it?”

“What is it?” She asks, still looking a bit cautious but there is a desperate-to-know gleam in her eye.

Louis grabs the Tesco bag from down the side of the sofa and swings it over his knee, pulling the box out of the bag and setting it down on the table. He sees Harry lean forward too in his peripheral vision.

“Wow, a bracelet maker!” Luna squeals, grabbing the box straight up into her pudgy little hands and staring at it in wonderment.

“Wow, that’s… wow, how lovely, what do you say, Lune?” Harry says by his side, leaning across to touch a hand to Luna's arm.

“Thank you Lou!” She chimes, handing the box to Harry. “Open it, Daddy?”

*

They spend the next hour or so making bracelets. It doesn’t take long to perfect the art of threading coloured plastic beads onto the string. Luna is sure to tell him that her favourite colour is purple so if he’s making one for her, he should make it purple. Luna makes one for them both; a green, yellow and blue beaded one with no discernible colour pattern for Harry (Louis helps her pick out two ‘D’ beads and an ‘A’ bead to spell out ‘dad’) and a blue, white and red one for him, again with no logic to the colour pattern. He helps her spell out ‘L-O-U’ with beads and they spend a further ten minutes re-threading it when the automatic tying contraption that comes with the set malfunctions.

“Y’know, my name Louis is French, and these colours are the colours in the French flag,” Louis tells her.

“Cor, that was a clever guess wasn’t it?” Harry asks Luna enthusiastically. She nods wide eyed. “Well done, babe.”

It’s dark outside the windows by the time Harry gently encourages Luna to pack up the bracelet maker. They leave her watching ‘Miracle on 34th Street’ with a fleecy blanket, a small dish of sweet popcorn and a carton of apple juice and sneak off into the kitchen to prepare the dinner.

“Thanks for getting her that, Lou,” Harry says from where he is perched on the counter top. Louis is next to him stood at the unit surveying the ingredients before him for the meatball sauce. Harry reaches out and tugs at the hem of his t-shirt, his new bracelet around his wrist.

“It’s all right, it’s nothing much really.” Louis says, smiling.

“Cuddle?” Harry asks softly. Louis happily obliges, stepping into the space between Harry’s knees. Harry is even taller like this, sat on top of the counter, and Louis’ head nestles perfectly against his chest. Harry wraps his arms tight around him and Louis settles in, seeking out the familiar, steady thump of Harry’s heartbeat. He can hear Luna’s film in the background and the sizzle of the oil in the frying pan beginning to heat up. He keeps half an eye on that while he puts his own arms around Harry’s body and tucks his fingers into the waistband of his jeans, for support of course.

“Love you,” He murmurs softly against Harry’s chest, almost lost in between his lips and the material of Harry’s jumper. Having him and Luna here feels like a little family. He doesn’t want to say it yet, he almost doesn’t want to think it because he knows how quickly things can change in the blink of an eye, but Harry’s chest vibrates against his cheek as Harry murmurs back _I love you too_.

Louis closes his eyes. He doesn’t think about it every day, but it's times like this that he realises how much of a change Harry's life had undergone when he met Louis. He'd done the whole coming out thing years ago, he was old hat at being gay now. He forgets sometimes how brand new it is for Harry. He couldn't imagine his own coming out with a child to take care of also. Sometimes, the amount Harry Styles amazed him was tangible; obvious to any onlooker, he's sure of it.

"Lou?" Harry's voice distracts him, seeping back into his consciousness. "You with me love? I think the oil is ready."

Louis pulls himself reluctantly from Harry's arms and sees that the oil in the frying pan is indeed spitting and glossy now. He brings it off the heat to add the meatballs, though they hiss and crackle and throw tiny splats of oil at him anyway. He turns the flame on the hob right down and plonks the pan back down, knowing now he's got time against him to make the sauce, grate the cheese, put the garlic bread under the grill and boil the kettle for the pasta to cook in. Anything to save a bit of time and effort.

They sit down to their first dinner as a... family? Is he allowed to use that word? He doesn't tell Harry that he's never eaten one solitary meal at this table apart from when his mum and the girls had been to visit, and even then Lottie and Fizzy had to sit with their plates on their knees as there were only four seats around the table. He watches with his own fork poised as Luna chews on a slice of garlic bread and Harry leans across the table to cut her spaghetti into smaller strips and half her meatballs.

"Sorry, I didn't...." Louis trails off, gesturing to what Harry is doing. "I forgot she'd need it cut."

"It's alright, Lou, Daddy can do it no problem!" Luna says proudly, holding the garlic bread between her teeth and smiling behind it as she picks up her beaker of juice with greasy fingers.

Dinner goes down well; he gets two empty plates and one half-empty bowl. Harry apologises profusely but there is no offence to take. Miraculously though, Luna still has room for a small bowl of Milky Bar Buttons.

Luna sits cross legged on the smaller two seater sofa by herself, absolutely lost in the cartoon she is watching. Louis waves a hand dismissively to the washing up and sits side by side with Harry on the three seater, sharing softly spoken conversations that don't rouse Luna from her concentration on the telly.

A share size bag of tangy cheese Doritos sits on Harry's knee between them, and cups of tea on the coffee table just next to where there feet are crossed. He wonders why everything feels so perfect?

*

He stays downstairs as Harry gets Luna ready for bed, disappearing off the the bathroom for about ten minutes before coming back downstairs with a ready for bed little girl. Luna wanders in with her feet turned in as she walks, like a pigeon but also like her dad. Louis adds it to his mental list of how and why Luna Styles and Harry Styles are the same person. Her curls are tied back into two plaits and her teeth are brushed, her pyjamas are on and she has Sammy the Shark tucked under her arm.

"Right!" Louis claps his hands together and stands up. "Ready? Upstairs we go!"

Luna leads the way, taking each step one at a time until they're finally on the landing. "That door there, Luna," He points out his spare room.

Luna pushes the door open and reaches for the light just inside the door. He holds his breath as the light flickers on.

"Wow, it's purple!" Luna sings, almost in amazement, charging right in and jumping onto the bed. "I love purple! Is this my room, Lou?"

“Lune… don’t-” Harry says weakly, not finishing his sentence.

"Yeah, I thought you might like it here more if it was like a proper nice bedroom, and I know you _love_  purple so I chose purple for your bed." Louis explains, turning to Harry who is still silent and shellshocked. "All right, Haz?" He watches as Harry, blanched and pale and dry lips parted slightly, stares around the room. "Is it okay?"

Harry is silent for another beat and then he laughs softly. "Okay?" He asks."Lou, this is... amazing. It really is. I can't believe you did this for us."

"Well, it was nothing, really..." He shrugs modestly, though he really had been so excited and pleased with himself when he'd come back from Dunelm with the bedding, looking forward to making the bed and seeing the room with a purpose. A bit of life.

"Just wanted her to feel at home, a bit."

"I love it!" Luna is chanting, back to jumping on the bed. Harry doesn't say anything but they share a little moment in the doorway, soft smiles and softer eyes, before Harry tackles Luna off the bed and sets about getting her ready to sleep. He leaves Harry to settle Luna down and loiters in his bedroom as he listens to Harry reading Luna a story. He sits on the edge of the bed, he stands by the window, he contemplates going out onto the landing, but in the end he doesn't. Harry pokes his head around the door and Louis had been so worked up worrying about whether everything would be okay that he didn't even notice at first.

"She wants to say n-night to you," Harry says softly, and Louis' eyes illuminate.

"Really?" Harry laughs and nods. "Right, all right. Okay. I'm coming."

"Night, Lou!" Luna says as soon as he peeks into the room, her face lit up. She's lying down under the new covers; they still smell all box fresh and new, her little head poking out the top.

"Night night, Luna, sleep well sweetheart," He whispers to her, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. "N-night!"

*

It's 1am when they crawl to the bedroom, via Luna's room to check on her. Louis spreads Harry out on the bedspread, opened up on three slick fingers, and sinks down on his cock slowly, dragging his hips back and forth with his feet tucked under Harry's thighs. The burn and the stretch of Harry's impressive cock will probably be something Louis is surprised by every time, for the rest of their lives together. It feels good though. He tells him so.

"Fuckin'... so good, so big," He murmurs breathlessly as he comes down to meet Harry's hips that lift up off the mattress in sync with him. "Fuck me,"

Harry obliges, snapping his hips up as Louis bottoms out over and over. Louis whimpers into his shoulder, biting his _own_  flesh in an effort not to cry out too loudly.

Harry comes in him with his own careful, muted whimpers, the eye contact between them electric as Louis wraps his own palm languidly around himself and jerks himself just three times towards his own intense orgasm. He sits there on Harry's cock for a few seconds afterwards, catching his breath and watching the rapid rise and fall and the flushed skin of Harry's chest. Carefully, he lifts up and off Harry, creeping towards the bathroom for something to wipe them off with.

Harry joins him in the bathroom a few seconds later, wrapping an arm around him from behind but keeping his soiled torso separate. "Missin' me already?" Louis asks to their reflections in the bathroom mirror, half-joking of course. Harry nods and hooks his chin over his shoulder, looking up at their reflections in the mirror too.

"That was fun," Harry says deliciously, all husky and drawn out.

Louis' eyes widen. Harry had admittedly gone from strength to strength in the bedroom in the last few months, and his new found enthusiasm and confidence was such a fucking turn on it was _unreal_. Shucking Harry off him and turning around, he pulls

Harry in for a chaste kiss. His bare bum brushes up against the cold ceramic of the hand basin but he does well not to flinch. "It was indeed."

"C'mon, let's get cleaned up and back in bed, it's cold." Harry says. Louis pouts, but Harry adds, "We can do more kissin' there."

 

  
_Harry_

  
Sitting in the offices of the local Council, the wind howling outside the windows and rain splattering hard on the panes, Harry smiles to himself. One might be forgiven for expecting the weather in May to be a bit better. They’re over a week into the month now, so it can’t even be blamed on residual April showers.

"Mr Styles?" A voice sounds from across the room, and a nice looking woman in a grey skirt and cream blouse is beckoning him over. He grabs his backpack and all of his paperwork he'd been clutching and follows her to the booth.

"So I understand you're terminating your council tenancy?"

"Yes," Harry answers, nodding as well to reiterate his point, as if he wasn't clear enough. "Yes please."

The woman smiles thoughtfully. "For good reason I hope?"

"Oh yeah, definitely. Me and my daughter are moving in with my boyfriend,"

He can see her lips quirk slightly but to her credit she handles her surprise well. "Wow! That's amazing! Do they get on well?"

"Yeah, really well." Harry answers, unable to stop himself from smiling. "It's worked out really well."

"How old is she?" The lady asks. "Your daughter."

"Five and half, just gone."

The lady smiles, full of 'how nice' and 'how lovely'. They go through the nitty gritty, filling in countless forms and cross referencing his records with their records with regards to rent and council tax payments, and apart from a few blips in the first year when he was still getting sorted and getting used to having wages, he'd not fallen behind with his rent or council tax once.

She talks him through what to do next and explains that the housing officer would be out to assess the property, and that gas and electric checks would be performed and meter readings taken. He signs his name on the dotted line what feels like twenty times, before she officially tells him his tenancy is terminated from the first day of June.

*

Moving their stuff into Louis’ had been a long, drawn out process; the boot and backseat of Louis’ car filled with stuff making journeys back and forth over the span of the last couple of weeks. There’s a lot of stuff that couldn’t be moved until the last minute, the essentials, though slowly but surely Luna’s bedroom becomes a shell of what it once was, the only thing remaining in the living room is the sofa and the dining room table and chairs, and the bathroom is sans products apart from their respective toothbrushes, one bottle of Radox and one bottle of 2 in 1 shampoo and conditioner.

For the last week, if they haven’t had tea at his mum’s house, they haven’t had a proper meal. It’s been tins and microwave things and bowls of cereal, in preparation for the move. It’s a grey, overcast Saturday afternoon when they take the last of the stuff out of the flat and Harry has to close the door behind him and post the key back through the letterbox. The Council will be coming by on Monday to remove the (for an extra five pounds fee added onto his last week of rent, by the way) old furniture and get the flat gutted and put back onto the council bidding list for the next tenant.

“Bye bye flat,” He says. His words echo around the empty living room. He eyes the indentations in the carpet where the table had been and the heavy telly unit. The table and chairs, Luna’s dismantled bed and a spare chest of drawers are small enough to fit into James’ Land Rover, but he’s leaving the sofa.

He runs his finger across the faded burgundy red material. It was third or fourth hand when he got it; he wasn’t exactly going to miss it. it was a piece of his memory though and it sounds ridiculous but he's going to miss it. He and one year old Luna spent many an afternoon snuggled up on this sofa together, the days long and lonely in their new flat before Harry found his job. He and two year old Luna built an assault course with this sofa and she'd leap from cushion to cushion, off the arm and to the floor with her hand clutched in his. He and three year old Luna played peekaboo over the back of this sofa, and bundles on top of it. He and four year old Luna shouted and cried respectively when blue nail polish was spilled on the arm of this sofa. Feeling nostalgic, Harry smiles as he rubs his finger over the still present blue stain. That thing would _not budge_.

He wanders into the kitchen, opening and closing every drawer and cupboard door, taking in the empty vessels and feeling a bit sick. He's looking forward to getting out of here, cutting the ties quickly and getting over it. Back to Louis; his new home. All his stuff is at Louis', even Luna. His world and his heart is in Louis' possession, quite literally.

He gives the bathroom a cursory check; he doesn't really care for the bathroom. All it ever was was a burden to clean. He'd spent many an hour sat on the downturned toilet seat while Luna splashed about in the bath, depositing most of the waterproof contents of her toybox into the sparkly purple or pink 'princess water'.

His bedroom has perhaps the most ghosts. His relationship with Louis was formed here really, whether that was through text message conversations transferred back and forth through the night, or in the more physical, together sense. He looks around, runs his finger over the light switch adorned with a Tinkerbell sticker, and sighs with a sad smile. He flicks the light off and closes the door. He reaches for the door handle to Luna's bedroom, but something stops him at the last minute. His heart feels heavy and he doesn't think he can face it. He wants to remember this place happily not sadly.

He lingers in the hallway, as if he's hovering outside the door listening to see if Luna is asleep yet or not, like he had done on countless occasions. Except Luna isn't here. Nothing is here. She, and all their stuff, is now at Louis'. It's time for a new chapter.

"Harry love, you ready?" His mum bursts in through the front door that's propped open with a brick, making him jump.

He looks up, fingers still hanging off the brass door handle, the metal warm under his clammy, trembling fingertips. "Uh, yeah... ready, mum."

She smiles back, equally as wistfully, and holds out her hand, beckoning him in. He crosses the hallway and crashes into her arms, burying his face into her hair. He takes a deep breath, determined not to cry. "Are you alright, my angel?"

"Yeah," He says into her hair, muffled and quiet. He pulls away with a sniff. He pings his eyes open to avoid the tears. "Just... just strange isn't it, be leaving this place after nearly four years."

"I know, love." Anne soothes. "You're moving on to such a big new part of your life though, sweetheart. You've got your own lovely, unique little family unit now, and they're waiting for you."

"I know," He nods, failing spectacularly to keep the tears at bay. He lets out an embarrassed giggle and parts from his mum, pulling his jumper sleeves over his palms and rubbing his bunched fists over his eyes , wiping his tears away furiously until he can see stars and splodges behind his eyelids.

"C'mon, Gems and James are waiting. Let's go and get you home."

 

  
_Luna_

  
The first night living for proper with Daddy and Lou was nowhere near as bad as she’d thought it was going to be. Her ' _Lou's house bedroom_ ' is now her real bedroom and it's nice because it fits everything from her old bedroom in and there is still room for more. Daddy has said she doesn't need more but Lou gave her a funny look that hopefully meant she could get something new.

Seeing the new colours in the room had been a nice surprise; the walls are light turquoise and the bed covers have mermaids and jellyfish and seahorses on. Lou had told her it was perfect as Sammy the Shark would feel like he was right at home, and she'd been so happy to realise that. She had him tucked under her arm now ready to go to sleep. Her fluffy rug, writing desk and height measuring chart from her old room are in this one too, which Daddy said should make it feel like home. It was sad leaving behind the stars on her bedroom wall, but this room is nice too.

"You chosen a story yet, Lune?" Daddy asks, coming back into the room and pushing the door too. The light from the seahorse lamp sparkles across the walls like they really are underwater. She picks up the copy of 'The Gingerbread Man' that she'd chose off the shelf and holds it up for him. "Okay, good choice."

Daddy reads this one a lot, but he does the voices different for all the different characters and he always does a silly one for the gingerbread man. When it's finished, he closes the cover and puts it behind him on the end of the bed.

"So, sleepy byes time now, babe."

Luna nods, the sparkle and glimmer of the nightlight catching her attention once again. It really is so pretty. She wishes she had it in her old room, but her old room was stars and stars don't live under the sea so... "Will you be downstairs if I need you?"

"Of course babe," Daddy agrees, nodding. Daddy gives one of his best smiles and she knows that means it will be okay. "You gonna give me a kiss night night then?"

She nods, scrambling up to kiss him. Once she's settled back down in bed, he presses a kiss to the tips of his fingers and presses it against her cheek. "One more for luck, Luna Flower."

Luna giggles quietly. "Night night Daddy Flower,"

She grabs Sammy the Shark again and pulls the duvet cover right up to her chin. Daddy tidies the book away and makes sure the window is closed and the curtains drawn so there is no gap for monsters or the morning sunshine to creep in through.

"Okay?" He asks again from the door. His hand is on the handle, ready to go back downstairs. He falters and very timidly, Luna looks at the door.

"Can Lou say night night again?" She asks. She'd given Lou a night night cuddle already downstairs when she'd got into her pyjamas. "Please?"

He smiles softly and nods. She hears him creep onto the landing and softly call 'Lou? You're wanted!'

Louis jogs up the stairs two at a time, saying something to Daddy on the landing before they both come into her room, Louis walking across to sit on the end of her bed and Daddy staying by the door. He leans against the frame with his arms crossed lightly over his tummy.

"Everything okay, Lune?" Louis asks her.

"Just wanted to say night night," Luna replies with a little hitch of his breath mid-sentence. "I like living here so far."

Louis smiles and she sees Daddy smiling too at the door. "Good. I'm glad. I like you living here too, you and Daddy. if you need anything we're downstairs, okay?"

Luna nods carefully. "Okay. N-night."

"Nighty night, sweetheart." Louis pushes a soft kiss to her forehead and bops Sammy on the nose. "N-night Sammy."

"Say n-night Sammy too, Daddy!"

"N-night, Sammy!" He waves to the shark from the door.

"Night Daddy, night Lou."

 

 

_Harry_

 

Their stuff is by no means situated yet. They'd endeavoured to get Luna's room finished so she could settle in nicely, which he thinks they'd achieved, but his clothes are in piles over Louis' - sorry, _their_  - bedroom and their bath stuff is dumped unceremoniously in carrier bags in the bathroom, the toothpaste and toothbrushes the only thing that had made it out. Harry's slightly more exotic kitchen appliances are stacked up ready to be housed soon; they can deal with that tomorrow, though. It's gone nine now and his back aches and his heart aches from both the physical and emotional turmoil of the day.

"'Ere," He nods his head towards Louis as he wanders back into the living room from upstairs. Louis gets up from the sofa as he does, pushing himself up with his hands on his knees.

"She settled now?" Louis asks, Harry nodding as they meet in the middle of the room. He leans back on the well placed dinner table, nudging his bum to the edge. He places his socked feet hip width apart and invites Louis in to stand between them, which he does so. He wraps his arms around Louis' waist and Louis' arms wrap around his shoulders, their eyes completely level with each other for once.

"Thanks to you,"

"She loves me," Louis says softly with a smile.

"She does," Harry confirms " _I_  love you, too."

"I love you both. Can't believe the three of us are here together now."

"I wasn't expecting that, to be honest," Harry says, and Louis nods. "I'm glad it happened though. Happy you didn't bin me off when I was being a plank."

Louis laughs. "I wasn't ever gonna give up on you without a fight, love."

"I think we're gonna be alright. I mean, we made it through the first night." Harry says with a smile, lifting his eyebrows hopefully.

"That we did," Louis says, leaning back and unhooking one arm. He holds his palm up. "High five to us!"

Harry laughs, a snorting puff of air from his nose. "Where did I find you, honestly?" He asks softly as he high fives Louis back.

 

 

 

 

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Plese reblog the [fic post](http://yourpricelessadvice.tumblr.com/post/172535296274/mummyamy10-wasnt-expecting-that-by) on Tumblr if you did! 
> 
> Amy x


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